Beautiful love that is pure as fresh like a dew drop to rain drop is revealed by the unfiltered beauties of unconditional love and loyalty that can remain in every single heart with unbounded sense of touch who is in love.
Beautiful love that is pure as fresh like a dew drop to rain drop is revealed by the unfiltered beauties of unconditional love and loyalty that can remain in every single heart with unbounded sense of touch who is in love.
'Hmm, loving arms are waiting for me somewhere up on the hill or at the corner of the alley who knows when, that was the thought of her that day before everything happened later on, to change her entire life. Sai was not only a young, energetic or even spontaneous woman who lived with her parents, but a good breath of fresh air among the freshers for a start in anything. She was a local journalist of an online newspaper. A bit of a last runner in her career but she was completely okay with it.
Very social and charming little girl whoever saw her once they couldn't believe their eyes that she was a journalist who they thought a school girl or just a girl from neighbourhood.
I have to talk to him, how was he? Missing his soft voice messages on my phone. I met him in a spring festival. He was wondering around a book stall, checking every dark suspicious books, bargaining the price then accepting his failure of loss and moving on with another book stall. I was right behind him when he accidentally saw me standing there the whole time and watching his embarrassment. He got angry at me and yelled to me as if I was harassing him but no one was there to listen him because of all the festival noises. I was like a new kid, born that day infront of him and with all the abundant devotional curiosity trying to understand his problems. But who could make me understand what was his problem with me. Just an obedient pet following around him in the whole festival like an abandoned cat. I have no idea what was wrong with me that day but I did it anyway. He didn't noticed anything. I was following around him, just watching him, what was he doing alone in the festival, I was a columnist in an online newspaper, so everything is legal. When he saw me again then I introduced myself to him. He was surprised at first then I took him for a snacks and drinks, with his permission of course. I was little optimistic about these things. Then I learned he was an artist but his talent had no intention to be likeable by the common people but he was not frustrated at all, moreover he was highly enthusiastic about his unique talent. Why his paintings were unique because he only use five colours black, blue, red, white and green, he named himself augustine, even the name had a reason of itself but he wasn't prepared to share the whole story with me. From then to now we are a best friend. Everyday, we took a good morning walk together then breakfast then got back to our everyday jobs. It was okay at the start but he was lately feeling some kinds of uneasiness around me. I had no idea why probably falling in love with me, giggling to myself, it was funny at first then he started to create distance with me, I understood it was my que to leave him alone. I was in deep within him but he loved to ignore it as usual though I think he knows it, later on he started to explore his nearby forest for inspirations. Now, I don't know, I still keep missing him everyday, especially his cute little voice messages every now and then to alarm me not to fall in love instantly with him or anyone. Lately, he kept forgetting to leave any messages or hangout with me. Don't know why. Never took me to his place that I could even give him surprise visit. Pathetically sad love story that I am experiencing right now. I really wonder, why he is like that but I have no answer to get any solution of his problems.
I was working like a dog, keep missing his presence, doing my everyday lifestyle to enjoy the life with utmost respect and comfort in my budget but seems everything turning into nothingness. I was a good student like the scholarship type but didn't have that thing to win me one. Not that much of a popular either, so when I met another kind of me, I was instantly loved that. It is half past nine, I have to send him a voice message but before that I need a good bath, whole day was a headache on my ass. I had to attend the conference from my newspaper agency, new articles I have to study and write about, how bad it can be. Water is too cold needing a steamy shower, sulking at my utterance limits of real life and it's time for voice message before my bed. What should I say, it seemed an half a year but actually a week or more, should I say I love you or miss you, no, no, it might hurt his innocent ignorance, hmm, well, can't decide. With her thoughtful endeavours about him, wanting to send him a sweet voice message so he could run into her quickly to love her unconditionally, but the time slept away in her heart while holding her mobile on her bosom, it was a sound sleep indeed. One hand holding her mobile close to her bosom and another was above her. At exact 8 o'clock in the morning, a call wake her up, just before that she felt a simple touch of a hand on her other empty hand, as if it is never going to let her go, always going to stay with her, in his loving arms with safety and soundly secured, with his sweet voice, he was whispering in her ears, I will always be with you, probably he was going to say more but then the mobile rang, so, she took the call when a stranger asked her, is it Sai? She said yes. Then added do you know Augustine, he is founded dead in his room this morning, he was ill with high fever, just before his death, he left a message for us, I meant whoever founded him, he left a message for us to call you, the whole house is sealed by the government, because he was a loner, there was no one around him or beside him to take care of him and no one even knows about his illness but we took the liberty to receive his messages and a painting that was left for you, are you going to accept it? She was shocked stone, couldn't understand what to say to him, then with broken hazy voice, she said yes, I would like to accept his gift but could I see him? Then the guy stopped talking for a while and said no, because he was taken to the hospital as an specimen of a rare disease, it took a week to kill him and it might be outrageous for sharing any type of physical contacts with anyone, it was for your own safety madam, we will deliver to you his last gift and messages that were only meant for you. Then she said, nothing, just crying silently over the phone. The man spoke to her again then said, please send me your location to deliver your things then cut off the call.
He died a month or more before without saying a goodbye to her, she didn't touched anything that was send to her. Those things were left alone to her storeroom just like he left her without saying anything to her. She spoke to him a week before his death but he didn't say a word about his illness, nevertheless, not even shared his home address that she could take any kind of initiation to show her care for him. He was just a selfish arrogant man who was suffering from his psychological illness and later it cope up with physical one. She was completely awfully absurd by the thought of him, even feeling disturbed to herself for feeling bad and useless for him. It was all his fault to make her feel that way. Arrogant dog, always in a barking mood to anyone who accidentally even like him for a minute, jerk. It was good for the society that he died or a man like him who was such an unstable, unbalance, anti social, moody and poor guy was a dangerous disease as a man himself and moreover, he died on a rare high fever that everyone is unknown to it. Only he could harvest such a disease from the nature. She was soaked with frustration and sadness, unknowingly to herself, she went to her storeroom, unpacked his belongings that were left for her, a some sort of book or probably a diary that was larger than usual size, there he kept all those feelings that he could not say anything to her in small messages, his all failures in life, small sketches of her with him, his dreams with her that all he tried to draw there, ideas of various kinds of artwork that he couldn't stay long enough to finish and a painting of him with her, she was on her lap, both of them sharing intimacy, shyly giggling with each other that was never happened in real life. That was the first time when she saw his complete work of five colours. She couldn't resist it anymore the temptation of crying out loud in that gloomy storeroom that was witnessing her feelings which was completely unaware of her own ignorance of his deepest desires.
Short stories of blending lives with mingling singles. Living in every dark corner of the city where no one is there to watch or to witness but needs to be happened and always will do. No one can stop or hold those moments where passed nor anyone can see the fourth coming but can endure to withhold the upcoming shores of love, lust, innocence, mysterious misfortunes or exceptional redemptions.
Short stories of blending lives with mingling singles. Living in every dark corner of the city where no one is there to watch or to witness but needs to be happened and always will do. No one can stop or hold those moments where passed nor anyone can see the fourth coming but can endure to withhold the upcoming shores of love, lust, innocence, misfortune or redemption.
Arabella, a state-trained prodigy, won freedom after seven brutal years. Back home, she found her aunt basking in her late parents' mansion while her twin sister scrounged for scraps. Fury ignited her genius. She gutted the aunt's business overnight and enrolled in her sister's school, crushing the bullies. When cynics sneered at her "plain background," a prestigious family claimed her and the national lab hailed her. Reporters swarmed, influencers swooned, and jealous rivals watched their fortunes crumble. Even Asher-the rumored ruthless magnate-softened, murmuring, "Fixed your mess-now be mine."
"I will marry you. Wait for me!" Mabel woke up. She had that dream again. In her dream, a man said he would marry her. Just a dream. Five years ago, she was set up by her stepsister and became pregnant out of wedlock. She lost everything, including her baby. Five years later, she was forced to marry her stepsister's fiance, Jayden, who was sick and going to pass away. Having no choice, Mabel decided to marry Jayden, not expecting that Jayden was the man...
I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria. But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity. A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love. My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me. Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego. He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press. He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan. He had no idea she was a fraud. He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her. He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate. At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her. I didn't beg. I didn't cry. I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play.
I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."
I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn. Beside me lay Ezra Gardner—my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers. He didn’t offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement. "Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins." He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend’s apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I’d spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes. I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe. "Showtime, Mrs. Gardner." Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend’s face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down.
After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."
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