𝘿𝘼𝙉𝙏𝙀 Soulless bastard. The word repeats in my head with every step I take down the stairs. On the outside, I look composed, expression steady and pace measured. But with each lift and drop of my feet, the heavier I feel. Maybe this is the reminder I’ve been avoiding. That none of the effort, restraint and quiet ways I’ve tried, changes anything. She still sees me the same way she did back then. And that makes everything I've built, even the silent hope I've ignored, crumble deep within me. I’ve been called worse. I’ve had men spit at me in courtrooms, beg me for mercy, curse me. None of it touched me. But when she said it, it landed different. It didn't feel like a mere insult. She said it like it was a truth she believes. Downstairs, in the wine cellar, I pull out a bottle of whiskey from the glass case, take out a glass and pour the drink in it. Then, I lift it to my lips, and I'm about to down the entire glass, but stop halfway. I stare at the drink for a moment, then
Last Updated : 2025-10-20 Read more