All Chapters of HIS PAST: HIS BRIDE: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

I walk briskly toward the library, my boots clicking a steady beat against the pavement. The morning air is crisp, biting at my cheeks, but I barely feel the chill. My mind is a whirlwind of rehearsals and "what-ifs." Despite my early morning detour for cake and milkshakes, I am still running thirty minutes ahead of my resumption time. I’ve always been like this but today It gives me too much room to think about how exactly I am going to tell Miss Karen that I am leaving.Miss Karen is an enigma wrapped in a stern, woolen blazer. She hasn’t been at the library for two weeks; the word around is that she went to take care of her grandson. Apparently, her son’s child needed her, She is supposed to be back today, and I know she’ll expect the library to be in super clean“Good morning, Miss Karen,” I whisper to the empty street, practicing my pitch. “How was your trip back? I hope everything is well with your grandson. I wanted to talk to you about something important...”I shake my head.

After that whirlwind negotiation on Monday, the library felt strangely hollow, I expected to see Tabitha’s elegant silhouette perched in her usual corner every afternoon, perhaps to offer a knowing wink or a final piece of advice before I transitioned into her high glass world. But she only popped in twice, brief, fleeting visits Before I could even process the weight of my resignation, the week had gone by in a blur of dust, ink and unexpected frustration.I am not going to lie: this has been one of the most mentally taxing and physically draining weeks of my life. Nomally, it should have been the easiest. I finally had an assistant, a successor to hand the torch to so I could focus on my final administrative duties and clear my desk. In theory, I was just supposed to show her the ropes, pass over the keys, and glide gracefully toward the exit.Reality, however, had a much more chaotic story cooking up for meHer name is Susan, and for the first four days, it felt as though she

“I seem to have something on my face, for you to be staring at me for this long,” I say, my voice carrying a cheeky lilt that I can’t quite suppress.I know I should probably be more demure. I am, after all, standing in the marble-clad heart of one of the most prestigious estates in the county. The air here smells of beeswax, old money, and a combo of fresh flowers. Most people would be trembling under the weight of the architecture alone, yet here I am, unable to help myself. There is something about the man standing in front of me that begs to be poked.His expression suggests he has never laughed a day in his life or if he did, it was a strictly scheduled event that occurred once in the late nineties. Please, don’t judge me; he just looks like exactly the kind of person I would enjoy teasing into a state of total, stuttering frustration. It is a character flaw, I admit, but a delightful one.Life can’t get much better than watching a man this composed struggle to find a retort. And

The first thing to greet me isn’t the quiet comfort of books or the soft hush of turning pages.It’s SusanMore specifically, it’s the sound of Sarah’s wail of excitement, high-pitched and dramatic, the sound slices through the calm atmosphere of the library, tearing the carefully maintained silence and disrupting the fragile peace that usually lives here. Heads turn.Every single pair of eyes lands on me.I feel the heat immediately on my cheeks, my neck, my spine. “Oh my God!” Susan shrieks, already halfway across the space, arms flailing slightly as she rushes toward me, completely unbothered by the dozens of people now staring openly. “You’re back so soon! How did you know I was missing your presence?”She doesn’t pause to breathe. She doesn’t lower her voice. She doesn’t even notice Mrs Karen presence outside her office, lips pressing into a thin line of barely restrained irritation. She doesn’t notice the student at the nearby table who glares openly, finger pressed between t

Watching Cole walk toward me, I feel a rush of emotions I can’t immediately put a name to.It comes fast, One moment I am standing still, grounded in the noise and movement of the market, and the next my chest tightens so sharply it almost steals my breath. My throat burns, my eyes sting, and I have to blink rapidly, once, twice, three times to keep the tears from spilling over and embarrassing me in the middle of a public space.I can’t remember the last time someone noticed something I needed.Not something I asked for. Not something I hinted at casually or slipped into conversation hoping it would stick. But something they saw and chose to act on without permission, without making it feel like a debt I would later have to repay.He keeps walking toward me, steady and unhurried, like he isn’t worried about whether I’ll accept what he’s holding. The crowd parts slightly around him, people stepping aside instinctively as if sensing his purpose. In his hands are the things I had convi