All Chapters of Talk to me nicely : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Oh shit. Oh shit.”Camila’s lips barely moved. The words dissolved against Simon’s shoulder as she stepped behind him, fingers clutching the fabric of his blazer like it was a curtain she could disappear behind.Simon turned, confused. “What’s going on?” He tried to catch her eyes, but she wouldn’t look at him. Her gaze was fixed somewhere over his shoulder.“Remember me?”Aaron’s voice cut through the music like a blade dragged across glass. He stood a few feet away, palms open, almost theatrical—like he was presenting himself on a stage no one had asked him to step onto.Simon shifted slightly, angling his body so he blocked Camila more fully. “Who’s he?”“I don’t know him,” Camila said quickly. Too quickly. She leaned her cheek into Simon’s back, hiding half her face.Aaron laughed once. It wasn’t amused. “That’s cold.”The music thumped behind them. Guests were still dancing, still laughing, unaware of the pressure building in the corner of the terrace.Aaron took a step closer. H

The sharp sound of her palm striking marble cut through the kitchen.Camila barely felt it.The sting in her hand was nothing compared to the heat burning under her skin. The kitchen lights gleamed off the polished island, reflecting her rigid posture back at her. She stared at her own distorted image for a second, jaw tight, nostrils flared, breath uneven.Her phone was already in her grip before she consciously decided to call.It rang once.“Hey, sisi.”Xavier sounded relaxed, like he always did when he thought he was walking into something ordinary.“I’m so angry right now.”The lightness in his tone shifted instantly. “What happened?”“Where are you?”A slight pause, the hum of a car engine audible through the speaker. “I’m actually on my way to your place already. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”She ended the call without replying.The kitchen felt too small. She began pacing, her heels striking the tile with sharp precision, every turn abrupt. The anger wasn’t loud; it was con

Chelle disappeared down the hallway without another word. Cabinet doors clicked open, then shut. When she returned, she carried a dented tin of cookies tucked against her hip and a cold bottle of milk sweating in her other hand. She set both on the coffee table with a soft thud. Damon leaned back into the couch, one arm stretched along the cushions behind her. “Ouuu… look who’s entertaining me,” he said, a slow grin tugging at his mouth. She dropped onto the couch beside him, not quite touching. “Uhh, don’t get ahead of yourself.” She twisted the cap off the milk, the plastic crack loud in the quiet room. Before he could answer, his phone buzzed against the table, rattling the wood. Damon glanced at the screen. His expression shifted—playfulness draining, jaw tightening. He answered immediately. “What’s going on?” Static. Then Simon’s voice burst through, thin and frantic. “They’re here!!” Damon straightened. “What? I was really beginning to think it was bullshit.” “They’re dre

Simon hadn’t sat in the living room in weeks.Not because he couldn’t. He just… didn’t.It had become a pass-through space for him . A hallway with furniture. Somewhere other people existed.He dropped his keys into the ceramic bowl by the door. The sound bounced around the quiet room and felt louder than it should’ve. He stood there a second longer than necessary, staring at nothing in particular.The couch looked the same. The coffee table still had mail on it. A water bottle, half empty. Like time had paused out there while everything inside him kept moving.He rubbed a hand over his jaw and sat down.The cushions dipped, He reached for the controller out of habit. The console hummed. The screen lit up. The game loaded.His thumbs moved automatically. He didn’t have to think. That was the point.For a few minutes, he wasn’t replaying old conversations. He wasn’t hearing her voice in his head.The front door opened.He heard Damon’s laugh first. Then Johnson’s lower voice. The sound

The bass from Damon’s music pressed softly against the walls, a steady thud that made the door vibrate before it slowly creaked open.Lillian stepped in with her hip, careful not to spill the small tray in her hands. Mango cubes. Apple slices peeled the way he liked. Grapes cut in halves because once, when he was eight, he’d choked and scared her half to death.“Hey, baby.”Damon looked up from his pillows, one earbud slipping out as he pushed himself upright. He tugged the other free, and the room fell quiet.She set the tray on his lap.He looked down at it, then up at her. “Who’s this for?”She bumped his shoulder gently. “Don’t start.”He hesitated, then picked up the fork. The mango disappeared into his mouth, and the corner of his lips lifted before he could stop it.She noticed. Of course she did.She reached over, speared another piece, and held it up like she used to when he was too busy playing video games to feed himself. He leaned forward and took it without protest.“Okay