جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 100

The guilt hit me like a wave. A part of me, the part that still had a sliver of humanity left, wanted to call out to her, to apologize, to take back the cruel words. But another part of me—maybe the larger part—was relieved. This was it. She’d quit. She would be gone. I’d gotten to her, and that was exactly what I wanted.My marriage wasn’t going to be ruined by her anymore. The thought made my chest tighten. I had pushed her so far that she would leave. She would quit, and I wouldn’t have to see her here again. The idea of her no longer in my life, no longer lurking around my home, filled me with an odd sense of relief.Still, the guilt lingered. She was hurt, broken by the words I had thrown at her.No matter how much she tried to mask it, I knew my words got to her. It wasn’t just in her voice—it was in the silence that followed, the way she tried so hard to pull herself together but couldn’t quite make it.I didn’t know if I should feel bad or if I should just feel grateful. My

I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling heavily as I pushed myself up from the booth. I was done for the night. Done with the drinks, the noise, and the suffocating weight of my own thoughts. The only thing I wanted now was to go back home, strip out of these clothes, take a shower and fall into my cold, empty bed.As I descended the stairs, my gaze instinctively drifted toward the bar.Aria was still there, slumped over the counter, her head resting on her arms. But she wasn’t alone.Three men surrounded her, their voices raised, faces tense with agitation.I narrowed my eyes.Her body was limp, like she was either asleep or too far gone to register what was happening around her.A spark of irritation flared in my chest.I changed direction, my feet moving toward the scene before I even made the conscious decision.I pushed forward, my steps slow but deliberate, my patience wearing thin.The commotion at the bar was starting to draw attention, and the last thing I needed was a scene

I stole a glance at her. Her eyes were half-lidded, a loopy smile on her face. “Ace?”“What?”“I’m sorry.”I paused. “…For what?”She blinked slowly. “For existing in the same oxygen space as you. It must be exhausting.”I snorted, in spite of myself. “You’re not wrong.”“I mean, seriously. You're like... if a thunderstorm and a grudge had a baby.”“And you're like if a tornado and a wine bottle had an affair,” I shot back.She grinned lazily. “Bet the tornado would treat me better than you do.”“Yeah? At least the tornado leaves when it’s done.”She gave a dramatic gasp. “Ouch. My nonexistent feelings!”I chuckled under my breath, shaking my head as I drove. “You’re a handful, Aria.”“And you’re a whole damn curse.”She yawned, leaning her head back against the seat. “But… maybe tonight... you’re a decent curse.”I glanced at her again. Her eyes were closed now, lashes brushing her cheeks. For once, she looked peaceful. Small. Breakable.I muttered to no one in particular, “You’re lu

I was teetering on the edge, my sanity held together by a thread thinner than her dress strap.She leaned in again, her lips parting in slow motion, breath warm against mine. Her eyes, half-lidded and full of wicked promise, locked onto my mouth like it was her target. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My heart thundered in my chest, every muscle in my body drawn taut like a bowstring. I closed my eyes awaiting her soft lips.And then—she hiccupped.Violently. Loud. Sudden.Like a squeaky horn shoved into the middle of a porn scene.My eyes snapped open. Her face froze—confusion, alarm, and something dangerously close to panic flashing across her features. Her cheeks puffed out like she was holding something in. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, we just stared at each other.Then it hit me.The shift.The pale face.The way her hand shot to her mouth.“Oh no,” I muttered, all arousal evaporating like smoke in a storm. “Oh no no no.”“Shit!” I yelped, shoving her back just in time.She

I set the machine going and leaned against the counter, breathing in the comforting smell of caffeine salvation. Once the mug was full, I wrapped both hands around it like it was the last warm thing on earth. But then my stomach growled—loudly. Right. I didn’t eat last night. Just drank on an empty stomach like a total amateur.I pulled open the fridge, hoping to find something I could munch on that didn’t require actual cooking. That’s when I spotted them: snacks. Glorious, sweet, carby salvation.A whole row of stuff caught my eye.— A half-open pack of butter cookies— Chocolate chip biscuits in a fancy gold tin— Strawberry cream wafers— Digestives (not exciting but reliable)— And then… jackpot.Peanut butter biscuits.One of my favorites. The kind that crumbled perfectly, tasted like heaven, and had just enough salty-sweet kick to go with my creamy coffee. I grabbed a pack without hesitation and closed the fridge.I carried my bounty over to the counter and perched on one o