The Parting Glass Book Novels & Stories

he chuckled, and I blinked before turning again and continuing on cleaning. Despite that I did say it was past noon, I took glasses and placed them on the coffee table, “I’ll take the book” I told him before proceeding to my room and leaving him nodding. I came back again and Brye was opening the bottles ready, pouring them fully into each cup. “Are you just in the mood na uminom or may problem ka?” I commented before placing the book gently on the table and sitting down on the other side of the couch. Brye laughs, “I don’t know, maybe both” he smiled before giving me a glass. “Cheers” he grinned before clinking our glasses together and taking a huge gulp from it. I took a sip before taking

Author's POV The whiskey had long gone warm, but Nathaniel still held the glass as though it could anchor him to what was left of his sanity. The room around him, once his sanctuary, looked like a war zone. Papers, shards of glass, overturned furniture. A life dismantled, piece by piece.

Just as she reached the door, I spoke again. “And Miss Cole—” She paused. “Make sure you don’t get distracted this time.” The words came out colder than I intended. She didn’t turn back. “Yes, Mr. Sterling.” The door closed quietly behind her. I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair as I stared at the space she had just left behind. That wasn’t about the files. And I knew it. I walked to the window, looking out at the fading evening light. The city stretched endlessly below, alive and indifferent.

My daughter, Lily, was hit and dragged for two whole miles by a drunk driver. I rushed her blood-drenched body into the emergency room. While the doctors saved her, I collapsed onto the floor in the hallway. With the last ounce of strength left in my body, I sent a text to my husband, Howard. [Lily is in critical condition. Get to the hospital now!] A few seconds later, my phone chimed with a reply. [Stay safe. I’ll be over as soon as I wrap things up here.]

This needed to be wrapped up. “Respectfully, I disagree, but we both can have our own point of view. That's why people are different from each other.” I closed my book. I don't think there will be any more studying. He picked up his glass and poured the amber liquid down his throat. I could see it bobbing. He rammed the glass down on his desk, and his eyes flickered towards me, keeping me hostage on the ground.

The bookshop. Fielding's. The name was in small gilt letters on the glass, the specific and understated typography of a place that had been there long enough to have stopped needing to announce itself. The window had books in it, arranged with the specific and considered casualness of a display that had been constructed to look like it had not been constructed, a few volumes face-out and a few spine-out and one open to a page that I had never read from this distance and was not now reading, because I was walking past in the specific and purposeful way I always walked past.

"Why did you break my glass, Winter Sloan?" Before I could explain, his grip tightened, cutting off my air. By the time Jared finally let go, I was gasping for breath. His actions erased any guilt I had felt inside. With a slight irritation, I said, "It's just a glass. Don't overreact. I'll just buy you a new one." Instead of calming down, he laughed at my words. "Buy me a new one? Can it ever compare to this? That glass was a gift from Naomi, the last thing she gave me before she died."

“Look, I don’t want to see you right now, Lionel. Let me get better, and then we’ll talk about our divorce agreement. Deal?” There was a brief silence on the other end. “I’ll just watch you from a distance, Misha. I promise not to disturb you,” he said softly. I hung up and turned off my phone. Three days later, I packed my belongings and checked out of the hospital. Lionel was already waiting at the entrance, his face lighting up hopefully when he saw me. “You’re discharged? Let me take you home.” Without argument, I got into the car. As the engine roared to life, the Bluetooth stereo system automatically connected to the iPod Sandra had left.

A hairline fracture appeared down the side of my glass, wine seeping through like blood from a wound. "To what are we drinking?" I asked, staring at the crack. Silas glanced at the broken glass with something that might have been surprise, then looked back at me with renewed intensity. "To choices," he said simply. "And to the woman brave enough to make them." We drank, and the wine was perfect... not too sweet, not too bitter, tasting like autumn and smoke and things I couldn't name. But I could feel it leaking from the crack, staining my fingers red.

“That’s impossible.” His eyes locked on hers, unreadable, but sharp enough to cut. “Then someone wants me to believe otherwise.” And with that, the glass between them shattered not in a burst, but in a slow, deadly crack that promised the next chapter would draw blood. .