HANA I watch as three angry faces stare at me. I focused on only the person in the wheelchair. I wanted to tell so many things, show so many videos, and need to vent out a lot. All I could say was, "I am sorry." "She is bedridden for another month. But she wouldn't listen." Mateo whispered in my ears. An old woman whom I saw in one of the pictures Shalini posted years ago, stood behind Shalini, her grip on her wheelchair tightened with every passing second. "They are her parents. They saw a photo of us it seems. They won't stop crying about how he looked so much like their lost son." Mateo explained. I nodded my head as Shalini looked at her mother and the woman immediately took Seb from my hands. The couple looked at him in awe as Shalini's eyes teared up at Seb. She caressed her cheek, lovingly. How I wanted to see them like this in the last three months now. "He looks so much like Sebastian." Her mother whispered. I tried hard not t

HANA It's funny how I thought I forgot how I used to feel when I was with him. But memories flooded into my mind again. The pillow he threw at me because I was using my phone instead of sleeping, the mug he used to drink coffee on my bed while staring out of the window, the warmth around my ankle when he held it to check the shoe size, the way the corner of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way he raised his hand to wipe the sweat on his face with his sleeves and every little thing came back to me, striking me like a hurricane and swept me to the world where we were together, walking hand in hand. I wasn't just happy then. I was free. I felt young. I felt someone who was in her twenties, and I felt valued. This world and life made sense with him by my side. I shouldn't be so co-dependent like that. But for someone who resented everything and everyone in the world, Bash made a difference. Now I realized why he acted the way did in our final days. Every touch

HANA A GLOWING APPRECIATION LETTER. How does it look like? What would Bash write for secretary whose name he hardly remembers? I wrote down a list. She makes an excellent coffee. She walks briskly, saving your time. She is a fast talker. This is exhausting. How the hell I write a glowing appreciation letter on paper while Bash had the hold of my system and phone? I will fail it. This is the first task he gave me. I’ve decided to stay no matter how cruelly he acts. A pic of my Seb is all it took me to boast my shrinking confidence. I didn’t leave him for nothing. But this, writing a glowing appreciation letter for Dhalia is going to be the end of me. Am I the same person who thought I could be a writer when I was a teen just because I hated the writing style of an author? I look at my watch. Not only did he ask me to draft this without using internet, Bash gave me an hour to finish this. I never saw an appreciation letter in my life, forget a

HANATEN DAYS LATER "How much are you going to steal?" He asked me directly on the phone. Of course, he is Cillian Sebastian Merrick. I couldn't just hack everything. I need to level up my game. I need more practice. There is no seriousness in his tone and I couldn't say there is no emotion either. "A one hundred and thousand euros." I sighed. "I still can't make you bankrupt with that, can I?" I heard him chuckle. Bash chuckled!! But I didn't get to see that. I will go to these call recordings again to hear that once more. There is a pause and he didn't say anything. "Are you drunk, Bash?" I questioned him. Bash can hold his liquor. But he is a human too. And I don't think with everything that's happening between us, he wouldn't chuckle like that. Because that one thing was so pure about him. "Bash?" I called him again, my voice just above a whisper. "Hmm..." He drawled and I already missed him. I miss seeing him drunk, I miss when

HANA I was kicking my legs and hitting him hard until I lost sight of the club. He didn't even put me in his car, and somehow, I ended up in what looked like a lavish penthouse suite. As soon as he put me down, I was running around the suite to find the washroom. I started to wipe my mouth, my face and my hands, crying hard. I felt his steps behind me, slow and steady totally in contrast to the storm inside me. "Hana," His voice was barely audible as he reached for me, his hands circling my waist. "Let go," I scream, rubbing the man's scent off me. I shouldn't have let him touch me. I shouldn't have danced with him just to spite Bash. I should have known better that the wounds faded just because I was accustomed to the touch of few men. "It's enough," He grimaced, trying to drag me away from the sink. "It won't go away," I cried. "It's all because of you. You did this to me." No matter how much I rub my skin with hand-wash, I fi