All Chapters of Surrendered Desires: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

90 Chapters

I Wanted to Hate You Longer

Ariana’s POV I didn’t go far.Just down the block, to the little rooftop garden above the café where I used to journal when Daniel worked late and I needed air. Funny how it came back to that place. Full circle. I sat with a bottle of water and my phone off, watching the city glitter and hum beneath me like it didn’t care who was heartbroken or healing or somewhere in between. I tried to breathe.But every time I exhaled, his voice came back.// “It was Daniel.”Like a detonator. Like he’d said the one name that still lived under my skin like shrapnel. I had imagined so many reasons Luca might’ve left me. Fear. Immaturity. A sudden loss of love. But never this. Never that he was warned. Never that Daniel had orchestrated it all. And what stung the most? That Luca hadn’t told me. Not after one year.Not after five. Not even when he came back. He waited until I forced him to. And now I didn’t know whether to cry… Or burn the whole truth down.I stayed on the rooftop until the sun dipped

Last Updated : 2025-07-16

The Man Who Didn’t Run

Ariana’s POVThe next morning, he was still there. Luca. In the kitchen, making coffee, not trying to explain and not hovering. Just there. Moving around like a man who knew how to exist without taking up too much air. That was new.Once, Luca had been all heat and hunger — rushing in like a storm that refused to be tamed. Now, he was quieter. Still strong. But intentional. He didn’t try to kiss me. Didn’t ask how I slept.He just poured a cup of coffee, slid it across the counter to my side, and said, “There’s almond milk in the fridge if you still drink it that way.”Still. That word. It hung in the air like a memory wearing new skin. I took the coffee and sipped. Then looked at him.“I need to tell you something,” I said, voice low.He nodded. I didn’t wait.“I didn’t just break when you left. I… collapsed.”He swallowed hard but said nothing.“I stopped writing. I dropped a campaign pitch mid-presentation and cried in the bathroom stall for an hour. I stopped trusting my instincts

Last Updated : 2025-07-17

What Safety Never Gave Me

Ariana’s POVThe word sat in the air between us. Stay. It wasn’t a command, it wasn’t an invitation. It was a risk. Because letting someone stay meant opening the door, even just a little, to possibility. And possibility was dangerous when you’d once built your identity around survival. Luca didn’t respond right away. He simply wrapped both hands around the tea cup and nodded — the smallest movement, the most grounded promise. Then, gently, “May I ask something?”I hesitated. “What?”He studied me. Soft eyes. Steady voice./ “How do I love you now… without hurting you more?”I blinked. It wasn’t a romantic question. It was a responsible one. A man who had wrecked me once now asking if there was a version of love I could receive without bleeding again. And that? That was the most intimate thing anyone had asked me in years.“I don’t know yet,” I whispered.“That’s okay,” he said. “I’ll wait until you do.”******The next morning, I found a stack of folded notes on the hallway table. Se

Last Updated : 2025-07-17

Letters I Never Sent

Ariana’s POVThere’s a difference between silence and avoidance. I learned that the hard way in my marriage. Daniel didn’t scream. He didn’t throw plates. He didn’t curse or slam doors. But he punished with silence so precise, it could shatter bone. After a disagreement, he’d become air. No presence. No warmth. Just… distance.And I, ever the peacekeeper, always folded first. Always apologized first. Even when I hadn’t done anything wrong. Because silence in Daniel’s world didn’t mean space. It meant war. And I’d spent years losing to a man who made emotional starvation feel like discipline.After my walk with Luca, I went back into the studio and pulled out an old leather box I hadn’t touched in years. Inside were all the things I never let Daniel read. Poems. Fragments. Half-drafted emails. Journals never sent. I opened one of the older ones.2017. A year into our marriage. Written on a sleepless night after a gala where he’d publicly corrected me in front of colleagues, then ignore

Last Updated : 2025-07-18

Reclaiming Her Own Voice

Ariana’s POVI recorded that afternoon. Not for the audience. Not even for the next scheduled upload. This wasn’t a podcast episode — it was a confession. No intro music. No script. No polish. Just the soft hiss of the mic and my voice, slightly hoarse from everything I hadn’t said out loud in years.//“There’s a version of love no one talks about,” I began, eyes closed.“The kind that looks stable on the outside. Measured. Respectable. Safe. But beneath that stillness is an echo chamber of absence. No cruelty. Just quiet neglect. And over time, that neglect erases parts of you you didn’t even know were fading. Until one day you look in the mirror and don’t recognize the woman staring back.” I paused.“This episode isn’t about blame. It’s about the question I’m only now beginning to ask myself: What does it mean to stop surviving a relationship and start rebuilding a life?/ I ended the recording without a wrap-up.No closure. Because some truths aren’t meant to be tied in a bow. They’

Last Updated : 2025-07-18

The Test of Stillness

Ariana’s POV Some mornings feel like prophecy. The kind that don’t come with thunder or signs in the sky. Just a strange stillness. An awareness that something beneath the surface is about to shift — not explode, not collapse — but tilt.Subtly. Permanently. That was today. I woke up not to the alarm, not to birdsong or city noise, but to silence. The kind that sits on your chest before your mind registers it. And with that silence came the knowing:Today, I would have to choose myself. Again. Deliberately. Loudly. And in front of someone I cared about.*****It started with something simple.I had a lunch meeting with a brand director from Paris — an opportunity to consult on a global campaign that could position me as more than just a regional strategist. It was the kind of meeting I would’ve cancelled in the past if Daniel had sent a text. Or even if I’d woken up too sad. But not today. Today I dressed like a woman with purpose. Soft ivory blouse. Hair pinned loosely. Earrings t

Last Updated : 2025-07-19

Luca’s Silence

Luca’s POV — FlashbackParis was never meant to be a hiding place. But somehow, it became one. The kind of place where time slows, and guilt grows teeth. I arrived with a single bag and too many ghosts.And for weeks, I didn’t speak to anyone except the woman at the corner bakery who sold me espresso and almond croissants every morning. She never asked questions. Just smiled like she understood silence wasn’t always loneliness. Sometimes, it was penance.The day I left Ariana, the world didn't fall apart. It just went quiet. That’s what haunted me the most. Not her screams. Not her tears. But the fact that she didn’t chase me.She stood frozen in the doorway as I walked away — and even though she didn’t run after me, her stillness haunted every step I took. Because deep down, I knew: She wasn’t surprised. She was shattered. And I hated myself for how easy it was to disappear. But I did it anyway. Because the threat was real. The man who came to me — the one in the charcoal suit with t

Last Updated : 2025-07-29

The City That Still Held Her

Luca’s POV – Flashback ContinuesThe city hadn’t changed much. Same skyline. Same blurred lights. Same cool wind that smelled like pavement and memory. But I had changed. And that terrified me more than anything else. Because what if the version of me she remembered — the wild, reckless, burning man — was the only one she ever truly loved?And what if the man I’d become — quieter, heavier with grief, slower to trust himself — was a stranger to her now? Still, I came. I took a cab from the airport and didn’t tell a soul. No calls. No updates. No distractions. I just stared out the window, counting every familiar street sign like it owed me an apology for still existing without her.I had no plan. No speech. Only a name I hadn't said out loud in years.“Ariana.” It tasted like ash and hope.The first place I went wasn't her apartment. It was the bookstore where we used to meet on rainy Sundays. There was a little café inside — mismatched chairs, too many teacups, a smell of old paper an

Last Updated : 2025-07-29

The Door I Never Knocked On

Luca’s POV — Flashback Continues I didn’t sleep that night. Not out of nerves. But because the city felt too loud — like every rooftop remembered me. Like every shadow had memorized her footsteps. I wandered streets that used to belong to us.Sidewalks where we’d once argued about art and politics and what kind of wine was appropriate for breakfast. Corners where we kissed like we were trying to rewrite history with our mouths. It was both beautiful and unbearable. Because the past doesn’t always ache in sharpness.Sometimes, it aches in softness. And that softness kills you slowly. I planned to write her a letter. Something honest. Simple. Something that didn’t ask for anything — not forgiveness, not understanding — just truth. But by the third line, I tore the page out and tossed it. Because nothing written felt worthy. Not of her. Not of what we once had. So I did the unthinkable.I walked to her office building. Not with a dramatic speech. Not with flowers or a ring or a desperate

Last Updated : 2025-07-29

The Room That Watched Us

Ariana’s POVThe invitation arrived on cream cardstock. Embossed letters.Gold lining. The kind of elegance that tried to impress before it spoke.It was the rebranding gala for Maison Faye — one of our competitors in the luxury design world. The kind of event that everyone important would attend. And I almost didn’t go. Not because of Luca. But because I was tired.Of performing. Of watching my every breath. Of being the woman everyone thought had it all together. But Evelyn convinced me.“This is your arena, Ari. You built your name without shortcuts. Don’t hide from it just because someone from your past might show up.”She was right. I didn’t owe the world my absence. Especially not now — when I was finally learning how to arrive for myself.I wore black. Not for mourning. But for power. A velvet evening dress that hugged my curves without apology, back dipped just low enough to remind them I wasn’t anyone’s afterthought. My heels were sharper than some men’s egos. And my lipstick

Last Updated : 2025-07-29

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