All Chapters of Sinful contract: Hard Limit, soft moans: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The first thing I noticed when I woke up from my sound sleep was the noice of the city buzzing like a beehive. it was not the rhythmic hiss of waves or the whisper of sea wind through gauzy curtains like I heard on the Island Kyl took me or the quite and calm of the prison villa he kept me in. All I heard is engines groaning, brakes squealing, a vendor shouting somewhere below the apartment window. These were all sounds that used to mean life to me, but now i don't know if it did anymore, now it sounded too fast, too loud. I blinked at the cracked ceiling above Mala’s bed, disoriented for the hundredth time since I left the villa. The mattress dips under my body in ways I’m not used to anymore haven been sleeping on plush and luxurious fibre at the Villa. The sheets are thin, smelling faintly of laundry detergent and the floral lotion Mala uses. The air here is heavier, warmer and It clings to my skin, carrying the scent of fried plantain from the street vendors below and a hint of

The first thing I noticed about Dr. Freeman’s office was that it didn’t smell like antiseptic like I had expected. It smelled warm like cinnamon, faint coffee, and something softer like lavender. The air was low-lit, the kind of lighting that doesn’t interrogate you, that lets shadows soften the sharp edges of your face. A bookshelf lined the wall to my right, crowded but not messy, like someone had actually read the books, not just placed them there for decoration. The chairs weren’t stiff-backed or formal. They were wide, cushioned, and angled toward each other in a way that made it impossible to pretend you weren’t here to talk. I almost turned around to leave but I was already standing Infront of the receptionist so I just had to speak with her. "Hi , my name is Ivana, I am here to see Dr. Freeman, I have an appointment for 12pm" I said to the receptionist shakily. “Welcome, he is expecting you, this way,” the receptionist said, gesturing me in like I belonged here, like the

I stared at the screen of my laptop holding the mouse in my hand but not moving it, the cursor blinked on the screen mocking, prompting me to continue. " Please attach your résumé and cover letter" was scrawled on the company's page. My fingers hovered over the keyboard but I didn't type anything in yet. this was the fifth time today I had filled out an application, and the fifth time I had stared too long at that blinking line. “Ivana,” Mala’s voice drifted from the kitchen, the clink of spoons and the hiss of the kettle cutting through my chaotic thoughts. “You done with that one yet?” “Almost,” I lied. My cover letter was still sitting half-finished, the last sentence stubbornly refusing to land. How was I supposed to sum up myself in neat bullet points when I still wasn’t entirely sure who “myself” was anymore? The scent of peppermint tea filled the air. Mala appeared in the doorway, a chipped mug in each hand, hair piled into a messy bun that looked like it might slide off

I didn’t expect the feeling to hit me while rinsing out a coffee mug at six-thirty in the morning, but that’s how it happened. It came like a quiet shift in gravity, an odd awareness, an epiphany that the walls of Mala’s apartment, warm and familiar and the only home I know was starting to feel a little… borrowed. Haven worked two months at Marrow & Finch my life has changed in ways I hadn’t fully registered until that morning. I had a routine now, everyday I commute to work, sit at my desk and rummage through a pile of manuscripts to read. I was paying for my own groceries now, splitting utilities, buying my own damn shampoo without glancing at price tags. I even had a small savings account, fattened by money I had never touched back when Kyl used to give me “gifts” in envelopes or slipped into my purse. But it wasn’t just about money, it was about wanting something that was mine. My own front door, my own mess, my own keys and I felt it was time. By the time Mala shuffled into

KYL'S POV The city was still alive long after midnight hour, street lights shinning over rain-slick streets, taxis rushing through puddles of water on the ground like blade slicing through skin. I stood at the glass wall of my office, staring at the skyline as if I could see her somewhere out there. The floor beneath my office hummed faintly with the after-hours cleaning crew, some of the Janitors whistled, some hummed softly but all I heard was Ivana's voice. That soft, infuriating way she used to say my name when she wanted me to stop talking and just listen. I hadn’t seen Ivana in over two months, not since she walked out of the villa with that silent, deliberate finality that felt like a knife to the ribs. At first, I told myself work would bury it, I told myself that if I drowned in meetings, expansion plans, and investor calls, I would wash her out of my system, but it didn’t work. My days blurred into a sterile cycle of boardrooms and signatures, and every night ended the