บททั้งหมดของ Beyond A Substitute: บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

The late afternoon sun spilled golden light across the familiar sidewalks of Brooklyn, casting long shadows of the past as Katherine walked slowly, her hands tucked deep into the pockets of her wool coat. The breeze was cool, brushing against her cheeks like a soft memory, and though the streets hummed with the usual city life — mothers pushing strollers, teenagers laughing loudly, someone blasting old-school R&B from a corner bodega — she felt wrapped in a quiet of her own. It had been months since she moved out of the mansion — the place that once held all her dreams and then shattered them. Brooklyn wasn’t home anymore, not really, but it was the only place she could think to go when her world collapsed. Her childhood neighborhood had changed, but its soul was still there: the scent of fresh bagels from Bernstein’s Deli, the sound of the No. 4 train rattling overhead, the soft chatter of neighbors who remembered your name even after all these years. Katherine passed an old bake

Two years slipped by, not with the speed of a whirlwind but with the slow, intentional pacing of someone rebuilding their life piece by piece.The old bakery on Spring Street. had been transformed. What once stood as a forgotten relic now bore a glowing wooden sign that read The Quiet Brew. Beneath it, warm golden lights framed a soft sage-green door with panes of glass that offered a glimpse into a space filled with the aroma of espresso, honeyed pastries, and peace.Katherine stood behind the counter, wiping her hands on a deep gray apron embroidered with her café’s name. The hum of the espresso machine blended with the low chatter of customers—students with laptops, moms with strollers, and workers unwinding from the day. A pair of teenagers sat at a table by the window snapping pictures of their lattes, foam shaped into delicate leaves. One of them caught her eye, and Katherine smiled—gentle, subtle, the kind of smile that lingered longer in the soul than on the lips.It hadn’t be

The glow of candlelight danced along the surface of the wine glasses. A soft hum of jazz played beneath the ambient clinking of cutlery and whispered conversations all around them. Katherine stared at the name like it wasn’t real. Kingsley. Everything around her dimmed. That name—just the name—was a trigger. A rush of memories. A jolt to her ribs. A bitter bloom in her stomach. The soft way he once said her name. The nights she waited. The nights he didn’t come home. The things he left unsaid. The lies he didn’t need to speak for her to feel. “Katherine?” Jordan’s voice sounded far away now. She blinked, trying to clear the fog. He leaned in gently, concern shadowing his expression. “Is everything okay?” She shook her head quickly and dropped the phone back into her bag, sealing it shut like it was poison. “I… I’m really sorry. I don’t think I can do this right now.” Jordan straightened a little, surprised, but calm. “You mean the dinner?” She nodded, pushing her chair

The morning air was heavy with the kind of stillness that made everything feel louder. The soft hum of the city outside Kingsley’s penthouse windows barely registered in his ears as he stood in front of his mirror, buttoning the sleeves of a crisp navy shirt, one cuff slower than the other. The watch he wore—an old one Katherine had once gifted him back when anniversaries still meant something—sat heavy on his wrist, a silent weight that dragged his thoughts back into places he had tried, and failed, to leave behind. He moved slower than usual. Not sluggish, exactly, but careful, precise—like someone retracing a forgotten path. His hair was already combed, his shoes polished, his cologne faint but present. Everything on him looked like he was heading into a meeting, maybe lunch with a board member or a prospective investor. But he wasn’t. Not today. Today, Kingsley Rowe was going to Brooklyn. He had replayed Nathan’s words a dozen times since that meeting in the office—the one w

The soft hum of the air conditioning unit was the only sound in the dim hotel room when Kingsley stirred. The morning light filtered lazily through the half-closed curtains, painting warm streaks across the ceiling. He opened his eyes slowly, feeling the dull ache of a restless night weigh heavy on his chest. He sat up, rubbed his face, and reached for his phone on the nightstand. Fifteen missed calls. Beth. A groan escaped his lips as he stared at the screen, the last few calls coming in around 2 a.m. He had completely forgotten to let her know he’d left town. No message, no note. Nothing. Just vanished and he forgot he had put his phone on silence when he walked inside Katherine cafe to prevent any calls distracting him. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, swiping to call her back. She picked up after two rings, voice sharp, clipped, already charged with suspicion. “Kingsley.” “Beth. I—I’m sorry. I meant to call, I just—things got complicated and I forgot.” “You