Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Cure Is you: Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

°SERENA° Is it possible for a person to have two personalities? Sure, it is. But how can someone slip in and out of them so effortlessly—like him? One moment, he’s a man of warmth, speaking softly, his presence almost comforting. The next moment, he’s cold and indifferent, as if I was never there. Maybe he’s used to it. But I’m not. How does he expect people around him to tolerate it? Then again, there’s no one around him except Tim, who can be just as cold and intimidating. And now, I barely even see Adrian in the apartment. He’s been leaving early, returning late—a ghost moving in and out of these walls. Where he goes, what he does—I don’t know, and I won’t ask. But his legs… that’s what worries me. Still, he shows up for dinner, and still, I refuse to join him. Yeah, employees don’t eat with th

°SERENA° I got ready in the ivory dress he bought, letting my hair cascade down in soft waves. My makeup was simple—subtle enough to enhance but not to mask. I had no idea how the women at these kinds of parties dressed, but I refused to paint my face with layers of something that didn’t feel like me. Once satisfied with my appearance, I walked down the hallway, only to find him already waiting in the hall. And once again, my breath hitched. Dressed in an impeccably tailored dark blue three-piece suit, the fine fabric hugged his broad shoulders, tapering down his lean, powerful frame. The crisp white shirt beneath contrasted sharply against the dark layers, and the perfectly knotted black tie added a refined, almost regal touch. His vest sat snugly against his torso, emphasizing his sculpted build, while his jacket hung open—exuding effortless confidence. But it wasn’t just the attire. It was him. His dark hair, thick and slightly tousled, was styled back neatly, though a few un

°ADRIAN° "I see you made it here, brother." The sound of his voice alone was enough to ignite the urge to crush something beneath my grip. Before I could entertain the thought of burning him alive, Serena stepped away from him and moved behind me. It did little to dull my anger. Nothing could compare to the sheer disgust I felt for the pathetic excuse of a man standing before me—the one who dared to call himself my brother. I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to. A man like him thrived on attention, on provoking a reaction. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. My mind was already elsewhere, occupied with Bethany’s sudden appearance and the things I needed to handle tonight. I had more important matters to deal with than revisiting a past I had long since buried. "Don’t flatter yourself. I had better things to do," I said, my tone devoid of emotion. "And yet, here you are," Victor mused, swirling his drink like he was some untouchable king. "I wasn’t sure you’d show. Afte

°SERENA° My vision blurs, my breath faltering—until I see him. Adrian. And he looks enraged. Victor lets go of me quickly, as if just touching me burns him now. I stumble back, coughing, pressing trembling fingers against my sore throat as I gasp for air. My body is weak, shaking—but I force myself to stand straight. The sting of Victor’s grip is nothing compared to the weight of Adrian’s stare. It’s the kind of look that freezes time, that makes the air too thick to breathe. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t need to. Victor straightens, adjusting his cuffs like he wasn’t just choking me, but there’s a flicker—just a flicker—of unease in his smirk. "Well, well," he drawls. "Look who decided to join." My gaze flickers to Adrian. He’s seated, but that doesn’t diminish him. His presence commands attention, his eyes burning with something terrifying, something lethal. Even without standing, he looks like he could burn this entire place down with a single glare. His fingers tigh

°SERENA° At first, I thought it was a dream—a cruel, beautiful trick of my mind. Because there was no way this was real. Adrian. Walking. With his own legs. Without assistance. Without crutches. Without a single hand gripping his arm for support. I forgot how to breathe. The chandeliers blurred. The murmuring crowd, the soft clinking of glasses, the swirling silks of dancers—all of it faded into nothing. The world ceased to exist beyond him. My mind scrambled, tripping over itself, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Because this wasn’t supposed to be possible. And yet, there he was. Moving. Toward me. I was still in a daze, trying to process everything that had happened—and was still happening—when his voice snapped me back. “Dance with me.” My heart stuttered. I must have misheard him. Because surely, he wasn’t suggesting— No. No, no, no. Dancing? In front of all these people? With him? Panic curled in my stomach. This was a setup. A trap.