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71. The Broken Line

Auteur: Ahsa
last update Dernière mise à jour: 2026-01-16 18:26:04

Two days after Harry’s statement was released, a single email arrived in his inbox.

The subject line was cold and formal: Contract Review and Suspension of Cooperation.

There were no accusations, no anger—only distance.

The next call came from a long-time sponsor. The voice sounded awkward, as if every word had to pass through a careful filter.

“We appreciate your honesty,” the voice said, “but we need time to reassess our brand position.”

Time.

The word repeated itself. And each time it was spoken, another door closed quietly.

Within a week, Harry’s schedule was empty. Meetings that once arrived uninvited no longer mentioned his name. Galleries that had routinely displayed his work postponed exhibitions without setting new dates. His accounts—once secured by annual contracts—began to shrink under expenses that could not simply be switched off.

He let people go one by one, his head lowered. No one blamed him. That, somehow, hurt more.

“I understand,” his last assistant said while pack
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  • Your Uncle, My True Love   81. When the Past Shows Its Teeth

    The next morning, Emma was already preparing for a meeting. Upstairs, the main conference room had been carefully arranged—the presentation screen lit up, fabric samples neatly laid out along the long table, and the logo of a renowned international brand displayed prominently on the screen. This collaboration was no small matter. If successful, Emma’s name would finally stand alongside designers she had once admired only from afar.She stepped out of the elevator, adjusting the tablet in her hand. She wore a simple cream blazer, her hair pinned neatly back—nothing excessive, but enough to reflect both her position and her confidence. She took a steady breath. She was ready.But just a few steps from the meeting room, a woman’s voice stopped her.“So you’re Emma Taylor?”The tone was cold, arrogant, as though the question did not truly require an answer.Emma stopped. Turned.A woman stood a short distance away, dressed in an expensive dark suit. Her posture was rigid, chin slightly li

  • Your Uncle, My True Love   80. A Door Closed, Quietly

    James looked at Elora for a long moment—not with confusion, but with a clarity that no longer wavered. The request—more accurately, the demand—did not surprise him. He had anticipated where Elora’s renewed boldness would lead.“No,” James said simply.Elora blinked. “I just want to talk. Woman to woman—”“Stop,” James cut in, firmer this time, though his voice never rose. “You have no right to ask for anything that involves my wife. This meeting alone is already more than enough.”“What are you afraid of?” Elora narrowed her eyes. “Afraid I might say something that—”“I’m not afraid,” James interrupted. “I’m protecting.”Silence fell again, but this time it was different. A boundary had been drawn—clear, unmistakable, and not open to negotiation. Elora took a step forward, then stopped, as if finally realizing that this was a distance she would never be allowed to cross.“You can’t control who Emma speaks to,” she said, trying for one last opening.“I can,” James replied calmly, “when

  • Your Uncle, My True Love   79. The Return of the Past

    James’s day at the office unfolded as it always did—orderly, measured, without drama. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, reflecting softly off the polished wooden desk. He signed the final document before the meeting, his thoughts drifting briefly to a message from Emma about Ethan laughing as he learned to stand. A small smile surfaced, uninvited.A knock interrupted the rhythm.“Come in,” James said.His secretary appeared, hesitating. “Mr. James, there’s a visitor who… says this is important. Her name is Elora.”The name landed like an old echo, stirred awake. James let out a short breath. “Let her in.”Elora stepped inside with a stride he still recognized—confident, slightly hurried. Though she had crossed half a century of life, her beauty remained intact. Her hair was neatly styled, her suit expensive, her smile carrying the quiet certainty that old doors could always be reopened.“James,” Elora greeted him, as though time had frozen at a moment she herself had chosen.

  • Your Uncle, My True Love   78. When the Echo Turns Back

    Sophie’s days began to shrink, like a room slowly closing in without a sound. She still woke early, still dressed herself with care, still stared at her reflection in the mirror—but her eyes no longer found solid ground. Emma’s name had drifted far beyond her reach now, shielded by disciplined work and a love that no longer flinched. Sophie, meanwhile, was left with the same intentions, but no path.She tried again. Sending vague messages to old contacts—people who once fed on gossip, who once savored unfinished stories. This time, the replies were brief, or nonexistent. Some chose silence. Some told her to “move on.” Others politely ended the conversation. It felt as though the world had reached an agreement: the drama was over.Sophie shifted tactics. Changed her tone, changed her target. She assembled a new narrative, polished old wounds, added flavor where things felt hollow. But lies have a scent—and people were beginning to recognize it. Looks grew colder, smiles stiffened. Door

  • Your Uncle, My True Love   77. The Wave of Balance

    Morning arrived without haste. A thin ribbon of light slipped through the gap in the curtains, brushing the wooden floor with a soft golden hue. Emma woke first—not because of an alarm or lingering unease, but from a simple awareness: she was not alone, and she had no desire to move.James slept beside her, his breathing steady, his face calm. Emma studied the line of his jaw, his slightly tousled hair, the fine creases at the corners of his eyes that had grown more visible with time. There was something different about intimacy in the morning, she thought—more honest, more grounded. Night might carry the current, but morning was the harbor.She rose quietly, draped a light sweater over her shoulders, and opened the door to Ethan’s room. The baby was still fast asleep, one tiny hand grasping at the air as if holding onto a dream. Emma smiled, closed the door again, and headed to the kitchen.She made coffee and toasted bread. There was no checklist to complete that morning. No present

  • Your Uncle, My True Love   76. A Small Boat Afloat

    Night arrived gently, like a hand that knows when to hold. The bedroom lights were dimmed, leaving a warm glow that settled softly on the walls. Outside, the city breathed at an easy pace; inside, their home held a pulse far more alive.Ethan slept soundly in the next room, his breathing steady, his small world safe. Emma closed the door quietly, as if setting one role aside for a while. When she turned, James was already leaning against the side of the bed, his jacket discarded, his shirt slightly open—the same man who led meetings by day now looking at her with eyes entirely different.“You were extraordinary today,” James said softly. Not a compliment tossed carelessly, but an acknowledgment that stood on its own. “The way you spoke. The way you moved. The way you… came home.”Emma smiled as she stepped closer. “You see me too generously.”“No,” James shook his head. “I see you as you are. And that is already more than enough.”Emma sat on the edge of the bed. Her hand reached for

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