Semua Bab BROKEN VOWS:- FALLING FOR MY MARRIAGE COUNSELOR: Bab 11 - Bab 20

LILLIAN I can’t believe I have to sit through another session with two men who both manage to get on my nerves. Vivian kept asking me what Ronan said the other night, but I kept brushing her off, telling her it was nothing. She didn’t believe me; I could see it written all over her face, but I didn’t care. Instead, I let everything weigh on me like I was strapped in chains that dragged me down with every breath. If praying could stop whatever was happening between Ronan and me, I would have dropped to my knees already. But something deep inside me kept whispering this wasn’t over yet—that it was just the beginning, and I hate how that feeling makes me uneasy. Then Joe texted me this morning. He said our counselor was finally back from his trip, and there had been an email about it. An email I never got. He also mentioned he’d be late, and told me I could start the session without him. Like that made things easier. Like being stuck in the room with the man I’ve been hopin

LILLIAN It’s been a week since counseling. A week since I sat in that suffocating office, my life was under a microscope—dissected, picked apart until all that remained were scraps of embarrassment. I told myself a little space would help. A break. Some air. But space doesn’t fix anything when work keeps pressing. I buried myself in meetings, fittings, emails—anything to drown out the way my voice cracked when I tried to be vulnerable. Maybe I knew all along how it was going to end. He’d suggested counseling, so I thought—maybe, for once—he’d give me what I wanted. His ears. But I should have known better. Joe and I have hardly seen each other since. He leaves before I’m awake, his side of the bed already cold. At night, when I hear the sound of his car, I pretend to be asleep. I watch him slip into the shower, then into bed, his back to me like a wall I couldn’t climb. So when my phone buzzed this morning with a message from my stepmother, I almost laughed. At l

RONAN The past two weeks of work felt empty, felt like something in me was either missing or broken. Work was always bound to be stimulating—but it was too stimulating. Couples stormed in and out of my office like it was a revolving door of chaos. Some blamed me for their marriages collapsing, and others requested one-on-one sessions only to confess fantasies of poisoning their spouses. The husbands weren’t any better; they smirked through clenched teeth while bragging about side pieces I couldn’t care less about. Last week, two clients nearly tore the place apart. They lunged at each other in front of me, hands around throats, screaming threats that could have landed them on the evening news. I had to wedge myself between them before security dragged them out. I should’ve been worried about my job, worried about the fact that I couldn’t control my clients, but the truth? None of it mattered. Not when the only thing I cared about—the only thing I thought about—was her.

LILLIAN “Come with me.” His voice was low, commanding, like it had already decided what my next fate would be. I froze in my spot. My eye darted to Vivian, begging her silently for backup, but she suddenly seemed like a stranger—arms folded, lips tight, gaze avoiding mine. “Vivian…” I whispered, my voice betraying me, thin and weak. “I’ll hate to repeat myself, Lillian.” His tone sharpened, my name rolling off his tongue with a dangerous ease that seemed to undo me. “Come with me.” It shouldn’t have this much power over me. It shouldn’t. But the sound of my name on his lips pulled me in before my brain could scream otherwise. I rose from my seat as if strung up on invisible wires. He stretched out his hand. Big, warm and steady. Without thinking, my fingers slid into his. His grip tightened. Not rough, but firm. Possessive. Guiding me through the crush of bodies, not dragging but steering like I belonged to him. My brows knitted as I leaned closer to his s

LILLIAN “Hello, father.” He lifted his eyes from his phone, his glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose like they’d been there for decades. His face was carved into that same stern expression he always wears when I’m around, like I’m already a disappointment and I haven’t opened my mouth yet. “Lillian.” His tone was clipped, his voice a sharp edge. “Have a seat.” I lowered myself into the chair across from him. A bottle of water sat on the table, condensation sliding down its side, showing that he’d been sitting there for a while. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got us both a glass of water.” He set his phone down with calculated care. “That’s the menu. You can order whatever you want.” “Thank you, father.” My eyes dart everywhere but his face. “I’ll order when we’re done.” “Haven’t I taught you confidence? Or have I failed as a father?” My head snapped toward him, heat rushing to my cheeks. “Father?” “You see?” He gestured at me with disdain, like