Lahat ng Kabanata ng WRECK ME QUIETLY: Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 70

SAMANTHA“What the fuck?!”I froze.Naked. Breathless. My heart slammed so hard I thought it might actually stop.Mason jerked back, confusion flashing across his face—then panic.“Mace…” My voice cracked. “Oh my God… what are you doing here?”Her mouth opened. Shut. Then she laughed—a short, sharp, hysterical sound that made my skin crawl. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here? With my brother?”I scrambled off the bed so fast I nearly tripped. My nightgown was halfway across the room. I dove for it, heart thundering, face burning.“I—it’s not what you think—”“Really?” she snapped. “Because what I think is you’re sleeping with Mason. And what I’m seeing is you naked!”Mason ran a hand through his hair, eyes tight. “Macey—”“No. Don’t. Don’t even try.”“Mace, please just listen,” I begged, clutching the nightgown to my chest like it could somehow protect me from the wreckage.She looked at me like I’d stabbed her.“Was this a joke to you?” she asked, voice shaking. “All thos

Dear Readers,There are moments when words fail to fully capture the depth of what one feels—and this is one of those moments for me. But I’m going to try, because if you’re reading this, it means you’ve stuck with me and my story through all its messy emotions, broken characters, passionate moments, and quiet heartbreaks. And for that, I owe you more than just a thank you, I owe you my heart.When I started writing this book, I had no idea it would turn into something so personal. So real. I didn’t expect the characters to bleed through the pages or for their pain and love to feel like mine. But what surprised me even more was you—yes, you, the person reading this now. You showed up. You stayed. You listened to my characters cry, fall, rise, and burn. You chose to invest your time, your emotions, your heart... and I can’t explain how much that means to me.Writing can be lonely. It’s just me, a blinking cursor, and an endless internal dialogue. But knowing you were on the other side o

MASONMy phone rang like it was screaming.I jolted upright, my heartbeat slamming into my ribs. The sitting room was dark—curtains still drawn, light bleeding around the edges. I blinked down at the screen.Mom.Great.I answered on the third ring, my voice thick with sleep. “Hello?”No greeting. No breath. Just her clipped voice, sharp and low.“Mason. Come home. Now.”I rubbed my eyes, trying to sit up straighter. “Mom… what’s going on?”“Just come.”Click.She hung up.I stared at the screen, frowning. No please. No explanation. Just that cold and tight tone. The one she used when someone was bleeding or had royally screwed up.I sat there for a second, trying to steady the pounding in my chest.Then I turned my head.Audrey wasn’t here.Thank God.Her perfume didn’t linger in the air. No bare legs draped over me. No baby voice asking me if I wanted coffee like we were still pretending this wasn’t a disaster waiting to explode.I dragged my hands over my face and stood up.My back

SAMANTHAMy eyes stung. I’d cried so much, I didn’t even know how there were still tears left. Everything felt swollen—my face, my chest, my heart.I was curled into the corner of the couch, knees hugged to my chest. Wrapped in Mason’s hoodie because I was pathetic like that. Because it still smelled like him.Liam sat beside me, quiet and calm. His presence was the only thing holding me together.He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t push. He just handed me tissues every few minutes and let me break without needing to explain.There was no music. No TV. Just the soft sound of my own breathing between tears. And him."You can cry, Sam,” he said gently. His voice was so soft it almost didn’t feel real. “Just let it out. Don’t hold back on my account.”I nodded, lips trembling. I couldn’t even get out a “thank you.” It stuck in my throat like everything else. Regret. Shame. Pain.So much pain.Liam leaned back a little, giving me space, but his arm stayed resting behind me on the couch. Li

SAMANTHAI didn’t mean to call him.My fingers just moved. Like they belonged to someone else. Like muscle memory had taken over.Like some deep, desperate part of me had crawled to the surface and dialed the only number I knew could still tether me to something that didn’t hurt.My chest was already shaking before I hit the green button. My thumb hovered, trembling, then pressed down.One ring.Two…“Princess?”My throat closed.“Daddy…” The word broke inside me. Like it had claws. My voice cracked, split wide open, and I felt it tear something loose inside. “I want to come home.”Silence.Not long.Just long enough for the ache to climb my spine and wrap around my ribs.Long enough for the tears to come again, violent and hot and wretched, even though I thought I was empty.But there it was.Grief. Shame. Loneliness. All of it collapsing on me.Then his voice came.Soft. Steady. Strong.Like it always had when I was five and convinced the shadows under my bed had teeth.“I’m going to