After 3 の小説・ストーリー

I will be so pissed' I groaned and threw my phone on the side. He was right, I had to come. I couldn’t miss Blake’s wedding, I just couldn’t. It was going to be awkward as hell, I hadn’t spoken one word to Sebastian since he left my house that day. He ignored my texts and calls and in the end I gave up, moved on. Well, basically worked for the past five years and randomly hooked up with one guy at work but that never went anywhere and it was years ago. I contemplated calling Sebastian, maybe to avoid the awkwardness. I nodded, thinking it was a great plan. I grabbed my phone and hit call on his number, my stomach in complete knots but we had to do this for Blake.

The lips that had once smiled gently at him would never again call him "my Prince." "Seraphina… Seraphina…" His voice was shattered beyond recognition. Every call was like tearing his own throat apart. Finally, he slowly turned his back. "When… when did she…" Richard's voice was completely choked with sobs. Maria looked at them with cold eyes, wiping away the moisture from her own. "Three hours ago." "She was peaceful. There was no pain." When Eleanor heard this, her vision went black, and she nearly collapsed. In the recurring waves of grief, she finally understood.

Rule 3: 90 days. Rule 3: Gone. End

she said. My heart pinched again, and I quickly looked away. I returned my gaze to his grave, engraved with his name, birthday, and the day he passed away. My system echoed with pain. It was still raw and heavy. "At least you got to talk to him before he left," I bitterly replied. My heart still overflowed with anger. It was still filled with pain that would never go away. With each passing day, the wounds they inflicted on me only deepened. A week had passed since his burial, and I couldn't bring myself to go. When I fainted in the church, I spent three days in the hospital. On the fourth day, I finally woke up.

Then once more. Three.

What was one month extra stay at home? After the first one, he had also sent another letter, inquiring about her welfare and the condition of where she lived. He had been polite and, well, gentlemanly. The letters she got from him were the only things she looked forward to each day. After the second letter he sent, the letters had gotten a little more flirtatious. He had asked about her hobbies, the things she liked and the things she didn't. He had asked about her past, and even though Mary was not all too comfortable about talking about herself- all she wanted to do was forget it, she told him a little bit about her. That she had worked for a nongovernmental organization in a medical facil

The moment I finished tidying up the house, the system's notification chimed. "Fran, you'll be going home in five days," it said. Tears began streaming down my cheeks again. I forced a smile and whispered, "Alright... Thank you." For a second, I thought I heard the system sigh. The next thing I knew, my ears were filled with the sound of fireworks going off. Elijah had lit them up outside for Abigail. I took a deep breath, turned around, and gathered all my belongings—wedding photos included. I then crouched in a tight corner of the garden and burned all that junk in a heap.

I wake to a delicious aroma filling my senses. My stomach growls in response, and I scramble to find my phone to see what the time is. Eight o’clock. The craziness of the day has taken its toll, and after my mother left, I put my head down for a short nap. Well, that was three hours ago.

Then, they closed the bedroom door. Once the door closed, the smiles on Katherine and my father's faces instantly dissipated. Katherine lifted my blanket, reached out, and pinched my thigh. "Bitch, you really are something! You finally got pregnant with Austin's child after three years of marriage, but I can't believe you would dare to abort it! You're simply asking for death, aren't you?"

I could drop dead any second. All I cared about was my dad's broken ring. I scooped up the black shards and tucked them into a velvet box. Didn't matter how I tried to fix it—some things just don't go back. *** Three months into treatment, Lorenzo still found me. Guess Elisa caved. Lorenzo looked wrecked—scruffy, red-eyed, all that cold mafia polish worn down to something raw. "Chiara..." he croaked from the doorway. I stayed leaning on the headboard, voice barely there. "The engagement's off. We're just history now. What do you want?"