جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 470

I would also like to address something I have noticed recently because, if I am being completely transparent, I find it quite hurtful.For most authors writing serialized fiction on apps like this, updating one chapter a day is already a normal and consistent update schedule. I know that a few months ago, when I had more time, I was sometimes putting out three chapters a day, and on particularly good days, even four. But as life has gotten busier, I have had to figure out what is actually sustainable for me long-term, and right now, that is two chapters daily.So when I see comments along the lines of, “she just gave us two chapters,” or people criticizing the fact that I am “only” updating twice a day, I genuinely find it hurtful.What exactly am I supposed to be producing every day? The entire book?I think sometimes, because you are reading the chapters much faster than I can possibly write them, it becomes easy to forget that there is an actual person behind this story, sitting do

EMBER’S POVI’ve got tears going now too. I open my mouth anyway.“Honestly, it’s only half done, the blood-lotus hasn’t even-”“Thank you.”“No, listen, you don’t have to-”“Thank you.” It comes out of her, torn and shaking, almost swallowed by a sob. “Thank you, Ember. Thank you. Thank you for whatever delusional hope kept you going. Thank you for fighting this hard for it. For me.” Her voice breaks completely. “Just… thank you.”And I’m half out of my seat to get to her, because I have never once been able to sit still while somebody cries like that, and she shakes her head at me hard and pushes me back down by the wrist.“No. Sit down. Let me do this.”“You’re going to set the coughing off-”“Then I’ll cough! I’ll cough, and I’ll do it anyway!” She’s laughing and crying at once, and it’s the most alive I’ve heard her in weeks. “Do you know what I did this morning? I watched the sun come up. From this chair, at this window. It came up over the trees and went all pink on the snow, a

Hello, everybody! Remi here.I'm typing this message with so much excitement and so much relief, because I got my laptop back this morning. It's currently Friday morning in my time zone, and the last week has genuinely been so crazy. I've never had a time as crazy as this.I did miss out on my salary last month on the other platform I write on. Despite my best efforts to write fresh chapters on my friend's laptop, I still wasn't able to meet the target.I first got my laptop back on Tuesday after sending it out for repairs, but it was no good. Apparently it wasn't just the screen that was damaged. The flex cable for the battery was damaged too, so it couldn't power on and it wasn't charging either. I had to send it back again, and this time it took much longer than necessary before I finally got it back. But all the same, I'm so glad my laptop is back, with a working screen and a working battery.I've also listened to everyone's suggestions. I've been moving houses for the past few mon

EMBER’S POVMy smile slides right off.“Because people have been crying in that corridor for hours, none of the nurses will tell me a damn thing, and I am bored out of my mind.” Her eyes narrow between the two of us. “And don’t start treating me like I’m too fragile to hear anything ugly. Catch me up. Properly. Whatever has been happening outside this room has to be more interesting than counting the cracks in the ceiling.”Queenie and I look at each other.Where the hell do I even start?There is so much Rayana does not know. Hell, there are things Queenie does not know either, and suddenly I’m trying to work out which disaster deserves to go first.Oh, boy.I take a deep breath.“Okay. I’ll start from the mountain.”I tell them how I got into the casino using a name that wasn’t mine and a face I had spent hours practising in the mirror, which Queenie immediately takes credit for because apparently the expression was her contribution to the operation.I tell them the place was every

EMBER’S POVThat lands harder than I expected.I know I should be horrified. Mostly, I’m embarrassed that I’m not.“Eight years is a long time to just lose,” I say quietly.“Good,” Rayana says.I look at her.We both turn. Rayana props her chin on one thin hand and looks entirely unmoved.“I mean it. Good fucking riddance.” She shrugs. “You’re both looking at me like I’m supposed to be sad for him, and I’m not. He spent years making you miserable. Now you can’t remember his face, his voice, or any of the shit he put you through. Forgive me if I’m struggling to see that part as a tragedy.”“It’s still my life, Rayana.”“I know.” Her expression softens. “And losing eight years is awful. I’m not saying it isn’t. I’m saying I’m not sorry that he’s the part that disappeared.” She squeezes my hand lightly. “If forgetting him is why you finally feel like yourself, then I can be sorry for the years you lost and still say good fucking riddance to Gale Dirtbag Crawford.”I open my mouth.“No, I