Five More Hours By Chris Brown 소설 & 이야기

The reason Justin Baker had been so hard to win over was that he already had someone in his heart, and I had spent three whole years just prying open a crack in something that was never real to begin with. I let out a bitter laugh and went back to my room to pack. As I reached up to pull down a large suitcase from the top of the closet, something suddenly fell to the floor with a dull thud. It was an old phone. On instinct, I typed in Dawn’s birthday, and it unlocked. A group chat instantly popped up. [Justin, you’re not actually going to marry Trisha, right?] [Seriously, are you even going to break up with her? We’re all still for your wedding with Dawn.]

"No! God, no! I'll pay. My dad would kill me if he found out about this. Just… let me do it in installments, okay? I can't pull that much together all at once!" I shrugged, held out my phone, and asked the owner for a sheet of paper. "Installments are fine," I said flatly. "Just sign an IOU for the balance." Once his hand stopped shaking long enough to sign the paper, I turned to the guy to my left, Kieran Ziegler, my voice dropping an octave. "Now you. You're the one who came up with these rules. You're not planning on backing out now, are you?" I put on a look of feigned pity, though my voice was dripping with contempt. "Honestly, it's just pocket change. Your family didn't get as much in

5:00 PM One more bloody hour!

"Zack, I think you should have some rest so you can quickly heal, fortune won't be awake any time soon" "How long will she be like this?" Zack asked directly while keeping eye contact with Chris to see if he would make any funny action that would suggest he was lying. "Approximately five-six hours" Chris responded in a firm voice. Zack nodded and stood up, then walked out with Chris following him behind.

Antoninus's gaze, as deep as the night sky, stares at me firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt, "I don't think this request is unreasonable. Chris goes to school every weekday and only comes back in the evening. So, you'll have at least 12 hours of free time each day." I nod, continuing his thought, "And if we subtract the 10 hours he spends sleeping, the actual time I need to be with him on weekdays is probably only around 4 hours. It does seem like a fair deal." He seems pleased with my understanding and pushes the pen for me to sign the agreement. However, I let out a soft laugh and return both the pen and the contract to him. He furrows his brows, "What do you mean?" "Mr. President,

The Volkovs hadn't counted on Lena, or on Chris being more than a pretty face and Vincent's "fuck toy." Chris had evaded capture for five years, a ghost in the shadows, outsmarting trackers with street smarts honed from homelessness and hustling. Bound in the safehouse, enduring Dmitri's relentless pounding, his massive cock stretching him raw, cum leaking down his thighs, Chris bided his time. Defiance kept him sane: body limp, spirit steel. "You're wasting your time," he'd spat earlier, earning a backhand from Yuri. Now, as gunfire erupted above, Chris's lips curled into a faint smile. The right moment was coming.

There were memories of Valerie too, from the day she had stepped in as helper to the last day of their orgasmic love making episodes. Chris brushed off the memories and moved from the door. By then, it was almost midday and he was out of ideas. He had to wait until he could trace her location. He tried to take a nap but he couldn’t. He felt too stressed, he took four shot of whisky, dry. In the later hours of the day, he woke up with a slight headache. He looked at the time and was shocked when it was already five in the evening. “Oh my God! Where did the time go?” he said as he got off the couch where he had slept on. He took a pill and took a bath. In no time the headache was gone.

"Five years ago, I was merely a shadow of your past. What makes you think I would come back?" My head was filled with questions and doubts. He fell silent. I could see the fear in his eyes, the fear of losing me for a second time. But I was no longer the same woman I was five years ago. I was no longer the woman who waited for him to turn around and see me as I was, not just a vessel for his old memories. "I know I don’t deserve a second chance. I know I’ve hurt you in the cruelest way. But I regret it, truly regret it. I’ve spent five years searching for you, hoping to atone for my mistakes. I... I still love you."

—Tracy. Beneath the caption was a video link. His hands trembled as he clicked it open. The screen filled with the image of me, painting. It was a step-by-step chronicle, from the initial pencil sketch to the meticulous finishing touches. Each stroke carried the weight of dedication and love. The version of me in the video smiled softly as I spoke to the camera. "This is my fifth-anniversary gift for my husband. Dennis Malcolm, thank you for staying by my side."

"I saw the recordings and videos from the accident. You were telling the truth. I… I never believed you. I wronged you so terribly. I'm begging your forgiveness. Can't we stop the divorce? Can't we try again?" Her eyes shimmered with desperate hope as she looked at me, waiting for an answer. But I shook my head. "Alicia, it's too late. There's nothing left to salvage. I've given it five years of my life, but in the end… this is where we stand." Alicia broke down, sobbing uncontrollably, whispering apologies over and over. "I will never forgive you," I said, then left the room without another glance. The moment I stepped out, a sharp flick landed squarely on my forehead.