Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 21 - Chapitre 30

The silence between them felt strange.Too soft.Too fragile.Too full of everything neither of them knew how to say.But it didn’t last.Not when the door suddenly shook under a thunderous bang.Dianne jumped.Roy froze.Another bang—harder this time, the sound slicing through the room like a blade.“ROY SINCLAIR!”Mrs. Sinclair’s voice boomed through the door, thick with fury.“I SAID OPEN THIS DOOR!”Dianne felt her stomach drop.Her palms turned cold.But Roy didn’t move at first.His eyes closed for one slow, tortured second, like he was praying for strength.“Stay here,” he murmured, his voice low and tight. “Don’t move. Please.”He walked toward the door.Another slam rattled the frame.Dianne’s heartbeat was a wild, frantic drum in her ears. The last time Mrs. Sinclair confronted her… she almost shattered.This time felt ten times worse.Roy inhaled deeply—once, twice—and opened the door.Mrs. Sinclair stormed in like a furious storm wrapped in silk and diamonds.Her perfume h

Morning sunlight spilled faintly into the living room, soft and golden.Dianne blinked awake on the armchair beside the couch, her neck aching, her hand still loosely wrapped in Roy’s.He was already awake.He wasn’t speaking.He was just… staring at her.His eyes traced her face slowly, quietly, almost as though he was afraid she’d vanish if he blinked.“You stayed,” he whispered.“I promised I would,” she replied softly.He sat up a little, wincing. Immediately, she was by his side.“Move slowly,” she said, adjusting the pillows. “You need to rest. The doctor said—”Her voice faltered.He caught it instantly.“The doctor said what, Dianne?”She bit her lip, looking away.He gently touched her chin, turning her face back to his. “Tell me.”She froze, her heart hammering painfully. “You don’t need this stress first thing in the morning.”“Dianne.”Soft. Seriously. Unshakably calm.“I want to know.”She swallowed hard. “It’s just… a health condition. Something manageable. Something we

The apartment was quiet after Aaron left, but not peaceful—it was the kind of silence that carried too much meaning.Dianne drifted into the kitchen because she needed somewhere to place her hands, her feelings, her thoughts.Her heart was still racing from the moment on the couch—Roy’s forehead resting against hers, his fingers brushing her jaw, the way his eyes had softened like she was something fragile he’d been scared to break.She could almost still feel his breath on her lips.She shook her head quickly, trying to steady herself, and set the cutting board on the counter.She reached for onions, tomatoes, peppers—anything to distract herself.Her hands trembled slightly with the knife.Calm down, Dianne. He probably didn’t mean anything by it. He’s sick. He’s emotional. You’re overthinking.But her heart wasn’t listening.She had just finished chopping something when a faint shift of air brushed her skin—and her body reacted before her mind did.Roy was standing at the kitche

Morning sunlight poured softly through the curtains, warm and golden, settling over the quiet bedroom. Dianne stirred first. Her cheek was pressed to Roy’s bare chest, and for a moment she didn’t move. She listened to the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing — calm, deep, healing. His arm was draped over her waist, warm and protective even in sleep.She lifted her head gently, brushing some of her hair out of her face, and studied him. His lashes were long, unexpectedly soft for a man with such a cold, imposing presence. His jaw was faintly shadowed, and there was a gentle vulnerability in the way he slept… something she had never seen before.She reached out, brushing her fingertips over his temple.He stirred.His eyes opened — slow, sleepy, unfocused at first — until they found her. Something tender flickered in them.“Good morning,” she whispered.His lips curved slightly. “Morning, baby.”Her heart skipped. That word still felt like a stolen spark inside her.“You should rest,” s

Roy drove straight to Dianne’s apartment.His chest felt heavy the entire ride — like guilt had wrapped itself around his ribs and refused to let go.He hated that she left hurting.He hated that she saw something he didn’t even know was happening.He hated that he wasn’t there to explain.And more than anything, he hated the empty silence on the other end of her phone.When he pulled up in front of her building, he sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.“Please,” he whispered to himself.“Just let her listen.”He stepped out.Walked out of his car.Paused in front of her door.His heart pounded like it was trying to escape his chest.Then — he knocked.Once.Twice.Three times.Inside, he heard faint footsteps… then silence.She was there.She heard him.She just wasn’t opening the door.He swallowed.“Dianne…”His voice cracked.“It’s me.”Still silent.He placed his palm gently on her door as if he was trying to touch her through it.“P