Tonight I End A Four Year Illusion 소설 & 이야기

"Ugh, shameless gold diggers like her should just get lost!" "Yeah, as far away as possible!" I leaned against the corner of the wall, listening to them hold a public trial against me. Night fell once again. I stood up dazedly from the corner and suddenly realized that my soul had become much fainter. Could it be that even my time as a ghost was running out? "Hmm." In his sleep, William furrowed his brows. I floated over, wanting to smooth them out for him. But then, he suddenly spoke. "Whitney, I hate you!"

He made me love a monster. Even now, with the truth staring me in the face, some desperate part of me clings to the illusion. My heart aches to find justification, to tell myself that I wasn’t tricked, that something between us was real. But the harder I cling, the colder the truth feels. I have been his plaything, his puppet for four years.

I placed the papers on the table, neat and tidy. I was going to leave a message for her, but I did not go through with it. Instead, I said it in my mind, 'Hey honey, this is the last time I'm calling you that, I guess. I spent ten years in love with you. It's really hard doing that, I know, but I'm giving up anyway. Congratulations, to both you and me.' I grabbed my suitcase. The moment the countdown was over, I put my hand on the doorknob.

She sat at the table and watched it heat the pozole with Dante's domestic ease, and she smiled when it looked at her, and she thought — You have four days. Four days and then I end this. I am coming, Dante. Hold on.

"What is four?" "Four is that when this week is over, I do not know what happens next. I do not know if I am coming back to New York. I do not know if I am going to let you in further or shut you out completely. I do not know anything. Last night was not a promise. It was an experiment. Do you understand?" "I understand." "Do you really?"

Dark stubble shadowed his jaw, and a profound aura of decay clung to him. "Elena, I’ve spent every waking moment thinking during this time. I know I screwed up colossally. You’ve always been so fiercely independent, a woman who tolerates zero disrespect. My sheer arrogance corrupted the purity of what we shared, and that's why you threw me away. But I swear to Almighty God, I never once intended to betray you." His words failed to evoke a single ripple of belief in my heart. Purely to expedite his departure, I offered a hollow response: "Fine, I believe you. Let it go now."

On their third anniversary, Adonis Kent suddenly announced that he was going to be single again. "Let’s break up." Claire Monroe was stunned. Before she could even wrap her head around what was happening, she was handed a "girlfriend evaluation form". Adonis's secretary, Bonnie Spencer, wore a mocking expression when she said, "Claire, you failed to score ninety points this year. Adonis has a rule of dating women who only scored above ninety. "Anything below that benchmark eliminates you as a suitable girlfriend candidate. "He will be breaking up with you today." Claire felt the tips of her fingers turn cold when she stared at the evaluation form. It was public knowledge that Adonis,

Ricardo Tucci suffered from severe prosopagnosia, constantly mistaking me for my best friend, Ella Henderson. At an antique auction, he won the gem brooch I had coveted for years, only to hand the box to Ella. When I pointed out his mistake, he merely shrugged it off. "It's just a piece of jewelry. Since it suits her, she can keep it." At an exclusive gala, Ricardo walked down the red carpet with Ella on his arm, while I, his actual fiancée, was stopped at the doors, left to endure the humiliating stares of high society. Afterward, his excuse was as careless as ever. "My face blindness got in the way again. Sorry you had to deal with that." On my birthday, he promised to drive us to o

At the Sweethearts' Light Festival, I head to Truelove Bridge to film vlog footage for my wedding next month. But through the camera's viewfinder, I spot my younger sister, Mona Jensen. Standing right beside her is my fiance, Weston Shaw—who is supposed to be working overtime at the office tonight. As Mona browses a vendor's stall, the strap of her bag slips off her shoulder. Weston catches it almost on instinct and casually slings it over his own shoulder. The glittery, sequined bag, covered in plush charms, looks absurdly out of place against his tailored dark gray suit. Maybe it's just a coincidence. Yet, the bag remains on his shoulder. People stream past them down the crowded stree

Damian Pierce said we should be a minimalist couple. There was no need for gifts, holidays, and grand gestures. “True love doesn’t need material proof.” My best friend, Sienna Moore, even backed him up. “Exactly. Your husband really gets it. Unlike my ex, who did nothing but shower me with designer bags.” I nodded. We lived that minimalist life for four years. In all that time, I never received a single bouquet of flowers, and not once did he surprise me. On my birthday, he posted a photo of us on his social media with the caption: [Minimalist living. The best gift is simply being together.] The post got over 200 likes. I left a little heart in the comments. Then I came across Sienna’