Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 21 - Chapitre 30

When I finally stop running, I'm in the locker room corridor, my breath coming in gasps, each breath a struggle, and my heart hammering in my chest, trying to break free. I lean against the cold wall, feeling the rough texture against my skin as I try to catch my breath and regain control over my emotions. The whirlwind of thoughts in my mind is overwhelming, each one more distressing than the last. The thought that Elowen and Thorne might be Caelum’s illegitimate children hammers relentlessly in my head, but I fight to push these thoughts away. If I give in to this spiral of fear and anxiety now, I know I won’t be able to return to work. With my breathing finally steadied, and my determination restored, I push open the locker room door, stepping into an environment that’s already familiar to me, but today feels different, heavier, laden with tension. The locker room is emptier than before, which should bring me some relief, but the unwelcome presence of Lily, with her gaze alwa

The woman’s compulsive sobbing echoes through the room, each sob grating on my ears and gradually eroding my patience. Irritation boils within me, mingled with a profound disdain for this pathetic creature. How can someone be so weak, so pitiful? I wonder if babies crying will be as insufferable as the wailing of this stupid human. The living room in the woman’s house is a dismal sight. The walls are covered in faded, outdated wallpaper, stained with years of neglect. The acrid smell of cigarette smoke saturates everything, from the closed curtains to the worn fabric of the sofa where she sits, crying uncontrollably. The cheap and poorly maintained furniture gives the space an air of mediocrity, a perfect reflection of the insignificant life this woman leads. If it were up to me, I’d incinerate everything here, including this poor wretch who can’t stop crying. “You idiot, can’t you do anything RIGHT?” My voice reverberates with restrained fury. The impact of my words makes

I wake up with a sharp pain in my head, a throbbing pressure that seems to echo within my skull, and my vision is blurry. Slowly, blinking with effort, I try to adjust my eyes to the dim light in the room, but the process is slow and painful, as if I were swimming through fog. The smell of dust and mold brutally invades my nostrils, a stench so dense it feels like I’m inhaling years of neglect and decay. My throat tightens briefly, and I fight the urge to vomit. I realize my wrists are bound behind me, tightly secured with ropes digging painfully into my skin. I’m sitting on an uncomfortable chair, its hard backrest pressing against my spine at an angle that only intensifies the pain. My hands are numb from lack of circulation, and the discomfort spreads across my back, radiating in waves of agony that grow stronger with every passing second. My mind is a fog of shattered memories, disjointed fragments I can barely piece together. I try to recall how I got here, the momen

The days drag on, each one longer and more torturous than the last. I've completely lost track of time; without a clock or any reference, the only way to measure the hours is by watching the small gaps in the boarded-up windows, through which the sunlight enters and leaves, tracing a cycle of light and darkness. Five times I've seen the sun rise and disappear again, and with that, I conclude that I've been trapped in this hell for five days.The meals are scarce and insubstantial. When food arrives, it's just a dry piece of bread that nearly disintegrates into dust at the touch, accompanied by a single glass of water, barely enough to keep my body functioning but far from satisfying my hunger or thirst. With every bite, the bread scrapes against my throat, and the water seems to evaporate the moment I swallow. The trips to the bathroom, a basic right, have become a luxury, limited to once every two days, and even those few occasions are humiliating, as if every aspect of my dignity is

“Asher, have you seen Aria around the hall? Has she been coming to work?” I ask, my voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and concern.It has been days, almost a week, since I’ve asked the manager and even Asher to tell Aria to see me. Yet, she hasn’t shown up. Not once.Is she avoiding me? Was the kiss we shared such a big mistake? Could I have been so invasive that I pushed her away? The memory of her lips is still fresh in my mind, the warmth of her touch, the fervor of the moment… but was it different for her? The way she pushed me away, with the force of a decision made in the heat of guilt, still echoes inside me. She felt remorse. It was clear in her eyes when our intimacy broke under the weight of what it meant. I’m married, and Aria… well, Aria knew that better than anyone.I should feel guilty. That is the expected reaction for a man in my position, isn’t it? But, to my own surprise, I don’t. Not in the way I should. There is, of course, respect for Seraphina. She is my w