Forever Yours by Delaila Adams - Free
Dear Readers,
Thank you so much for showing interest in my book Forever Yours through the lovely blog hosted by Panda Cozy Corner. I’m Delaila Adams, and I’m thrilled to have you join me on this journey!
Starting today, I will be posting one or two chapters of Forever Yours every day, right here on this blog. For those of you who enjoy audiobooks, I'm also working on a special treat—I'll be uploading the audiobook version on YouTube soon!
This entire reading experience is completely free, a special gift from me to you. And if fate allows, I’ll be more than happy to write even more stories for you in the future.
In the meantime, let me introduce you to the main characters, the prologue, and the first two chapters of Forever Yours. I can’t wait for you to meet them and dive into their world.
Thank you again for your support and for reading along with me!
Warmly,
Delaila Adams
Characters
Sorin Zaveri - Age: 25
Drea Miles - Age: 20
Liam Ford - Age: 30
Kaylee Matera - Age: 25
Prologue
Drea Miles pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the restaurant window, her breath forming a foggy halo around the edges. She stared outside, the bustling city beyond a welcome distraction from the hollow celebration behind her. It was her birthday, but she felt nothing.
Seventeen. A milestone, or so her parents claimed. They had whisked her to one of the city's most exclusive restaurants, parading the evening as a grand favor, as if an overpriced meal would fill the void she’d felt growing inside for years. But her interest in the evening was as absent as the connection she sought from them.
Her father sat across from her, engaged in yet another conversation with a business associate, while her mother nodded along, her smile as artificial as the flickering candlelight between them. They barely noticed her silence, or how she pushed her plate away, appetite lost in the sterile exchange of profit margins and stock portfolios.
Drea's gaze slid back to the world outside. At least out there, life was moving. Her chestnut brown hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders as she shifted, brushing it behind her ear absentmindedly. The city lights, the strangers walking past—each had a life, a story. And yet here she was, trapped in one that wasn’t even hers.
Her eyes, usually warm and bright, now felt as empty as she did. The weight of expectation pressed down on her shoulders like a shroud. She longed to leave, to run far away from the cold, gilded cage she called home. But where would she go? For all her parents' millions, she had nothing. No friends, no real freedom. Whatever she needed, she had to ask for—permission and approval always dangled like distant stars.
Once, she’d dreamed of a knight in shining armor, someone who would whisk her away from this suffocating existence. But dreams like that felt naïve now. Still, deep down, she held onto the belief that sometimes, just sometimes, you needed someone else to remind you that you were worth saving. Someone to show you that love, real love, was possible.
She blinked back the sting of tears, forcing herself to focus on the world beyond. And that’s when she saw him.
A man stood across the street, his broad frame silhouetted by the streetlights. He was dressed simply—faded jeans, a white T-shirt—but there was something about him that made her lean closer to the glass. He crouched down, his attention on two children in ragged clothes, their faces smudged with dirt.
Drea watched, her heart skipping as he smiled at them, pulling food from a worn bag and offering it with gentle hands. The children hesitated, but his warmth and kindness were undeniable. They took the food, eyes wide with gratitude. He ruffled their hair, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Drea smiled.
There was something magnetic about him, something that called to her in a way she couldn’t explain. She barely saw his face, but that didn’t matter. It wasn’t his appearance that drew her in—it was the way he moved, the quiet compassion in his gestures.
Please, she thought, almost willing him to look her way.
As if he could hear her, the man ran a hand through his tousled hair and turned. Her breath caught in her throat as their eyes met across the street. Her pulse quickened, and for the first time in years, her heart stirred with something that felt like hope.
Chapter One
My father was in debt.
Yes, he had been a millionaire. He was.
For the past few weeks, the house had been wrapped in a tense silence. My father and mother had spent their days locked away in his study, endlessly discussing the debts that had taken over our lives.
And me? As usual, I stayed in my room. I didn’t want to be part of any of it—not that they’d include me anyway.
My father had even stopped me from going to college. At twenty, I was still living with them, trapped in a place I desperately wanted to escape. I had hoped to finish college, find a job, and leave, but those plans had fallen apart just like everything else.
I wanted to leave because it was painfully clear—they didn’t like me. I was a burden. They never hesitated to remind me of that.
I was just... pathetic. A crybaby.
Tears came so easily to me, especially now that I had no one. No friends. No one to care.
A few years ago, I had Adrian. He had been my bodyguard, but he quickly became my first real friend. He understood me, made me smile. But then my father began to suspect something was going on between us. He thought we had some sort of secret relationship and fired Adrian on the spot. It didn’t matter that Adrian was ten years older and already married.
I’d begged my father to understand, but he didn’t care. I hadn’t seen Adrian since that day.
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Before Adrian left, he assured me it wasn’t my fault, but guilt still gnawed at me.
I sighed, burying my face into the pillow, wishing I could escape reality. Escape it all.
“Drea!” A voice called from downstairs. “Come down, right now!”
I groaned. What could they possibly want with me? Had they finally remembered they had a daughter?
Reluctantly, I dragged myself out of bed and slowly made my way downstairs.
The once quiet living room was buzzing with activity, servants moving around like there was something to celebrate. A weird feeling gnawed at my stomach.
What was going on?
A servant told me my parents were waiting for me at the dining table. That was odd enough—my parents never invited me to join them for meals.
Suspicion gripped me as I entered the dining room. My parents sat across from each other at the table, which was covered in dishes.
My father gestured to the chair opposite him. “Sit. Have dinner.”
I sat, feeling uneasy as I folded my hands in my lap, my fingers twisting nervously. My mother passed me a plate filled with food.
“Thank you,” I murmured, trying to eat though my stomach twisted with nerves.
Dinner passed in tense silence, and as the last of the dishes were cleared, my father finally spoke. “We need to talk.”
I froze. Was this going to be another lecture about how much of a burden I was?
“Yes?” I said softly.
“You know about the company’s losses, the debts.”
I nodded.
“Well,” he continued, “today I had a meeting with a former CEO of a powerful company. He made me an offer.”
I leaned forward slightly, hoping this meant he’d found a way out of his financial mess. Maybe I could go back to college. I hadn’t felt this hopeful in weeks.
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Father’s gaze hardened. “He agreed to convince his son, the current CEO, to invest in our company—on one condition.”
“And?” I prompted, my heart pounding.
“You marry his son.”
My world tilted. “I’m sorry, what?”
My mother’s voice cut through the tension. “You’re getting married. It’s settled.”
“No!” I snapped. “You’re selling me off! This is insane.”
Father’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. “You will do as I say. The deal is done. You’re getting married next week, and that’s final.”
I felt the weight of his words crush me, and tears prickled in my eyes.
“Please,” I begged, my voice cracking. “Don’t do this. I’m only twenty. I have my whole life ahead of me.”
But my pleas were met with cold, indifferent faces.
“Drea,” my mother said sharply, “you should be grateful someone is willing to marry you. You’ll finally be useful to us.”
I wiped a tear away with the back of my hand, my chest tight with despair. “But... what about my studies?”
“You can ask your husband if you want to study,” my father snapped.
“I can’t let him decide whether I go to school!”
Father slammed his fist on the table. “Take your feminism elsewhere. It doesn’t work here.”
A tear slipped down my cheek. They were really going through with this. They were selling me off like a commodity.
“The family is coming tomorrow for dinner,” my mother added. “Dress properly. Don’t embarrass us.”
Before they could see me fall apart completely, I ran upstairs to my room.
This couldn’t be happening.
Tears streamed down my face as I sat on my bed. My heart felt like it was being ripped apart. Was I really worth so little to them?
I had no money, no way out.
I couldn’t marry this stranger. I couldn’t marry anyone because... my heart already belonged to Sorin Zaveri.
He didn’t know I existed, but that didn’t matter. I loved him. He had a girlfriend, but that didn’t stop me. I couldn’t let go.
I collapsed onto the bed, my phone clutched in my hand, his picture on the screen. Sorin was the only bright spot in my life, the only reason I kept going.
But I knew—deep down—I could never have him.
The tears came harder, and I screamed into the pillow, my heart heavy with the realization that I was nothing more than a burden, and this would never change.
Chapter Two
My eyes were swollen and red, my skin blotchy from crying through the night. I looked a mess—inside and out. Hair tangled, body weak, every part of me worn down. I felt like a shadow of myself, barely holding on.
The warm bathwater lapped at my skin as I leaned against the porcelain, knees drawn tightly to my chest. I rested my chin on them, trying to find some semblance of peace. The world outside was a battlefield, and I wasn't ready to face it—not yet. If only I could stay submerged in this warmth forever, away from the cold truth that awaited me. My own parents—people meant to love me—had sold me off like some cheap commodity, all for the sake of their failing company.
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The thought brought a bitter smile to my lips. The irony of my name, Drea, meaning courage, had never felt heavier. Courage? I was the furthest thing from it.
A loud bang rattled the door. "Drea!" My mother's voice pierced the fragile calm I had built. "Do you think you can hide in there all day? Get out now!" Her fists pounded against the door like the war drums in my chest.
I flinched, retreating further into the tub. Tears welled up again, stubborn and unstoppable. I tried to swallow the sob that crawled its way up my throat, but it slipped through, muffled by my palm.
"You better be out here in two minutes!" she barked again before storming off.
I exhaled, shaky and hollow. Reluctantly, I stood, feeling the weight of the world settle on my shoulders. Drying off, I slipped into leggings and a T-shirt, not even bothering with my hair. I could feel the weight of her expectations before I even opened the bathroom door.
My mother was waiting for me in my bedroom, arms crossed, eyes brimming with disdain. She looked like me—her hair, her eyes, everything about her mirrored mine, except she was beautiful. Striking, even. Meanwhile, I was just... me. Plain. Forgettable.
"Pathetic," she spat, her gaze searing into me. "You're always crying. You look like a wreck. You ruin my mood just by being here."
Her words should have hurt, but I was numb. Numb to everything.
I kept my head down, waiting for her to get to the point. "We have guests arriving in a few hours—your future husband and his parents. Make yourself presentable. Be on your best behavior."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. She left, slamming the door behind her.
I glanced at the dress laid out on the bed. It was beautiful, something a girl like me would dream of wearing. But I couldn’t see myself in it. Not really. I sighed, fingers brushing the fabric. It didn’t matter what I wore. I wouldn’t feel like I belonged.
A maid helped me get ready, carefully applying makeup to mask the exhaustion etched into my skin. She worked silently, covering the dark circles under my eyes and brushing out my hair. It fell in loose waves over my shoulders when she was done. A version of me that felt more like a stranger stared back from the mirror.
I thanked her quietly, my heart pounding as I made my way downstairs. My father’s voice was loud and impatient, barking orders for me to hurry. My parents stood by the door, their faces plastered with forced smiles as we waited for the arrival of my future in-laws.
They arrived soon enough, an older couple who carried themselves with the kind of confidence that spoke of wealth and power. My parents rushed forward to greet them, but I stayed back, my hands fidgeting nervously behind me.
Their son, however, remained outside, engrossed in a phone call, his back turned to us. Even from behind, he radiated an air of authority, his posture sharp and deliberate.
Then my future father-in-law stepped closer to me, his gaze softening as he spoke. "You must be Drea," he said kindly, his smile genuine. "It's wonderful to finally meet you. How are you?"
"I’m fine, sir," I managed, forcing a smile in return. "How are you?"
His wife, Laura, joined him, beaming at me. "You're beautiful, Drea!" Her voice was warm, and it caught me off guard. No one had ever called me beautiful before. My cheeks flushed, unsure how to respond.
"Thank you," I stammered. "You’re beautiful too."
She chuckled. "Oh, no need for formalities, dear. You can just call me Laura."
I nodded, feeling out of place in this interaction. My eyes darted back to the doorway, searching for him. The son. Sorin.
I knew that name. Sorin Zaveri. My heart pounded in my chest. Could it really be him?
And then, like a scene from a dream, he stepped inside, and the air was knocked from my lungs.
It was him. The man I had idolized from afar. The man who had unknowingly been my lifeline, the reason I had survived so many dark days.
But he didn’t even glance my way.
Dressed in an all-black suit, he exuded confidence, every movement calculated. His expression was bored, his eyes barely acknowledging my parents as he gave them a curt nod. He exchanged a silent look with his mother before rolling his eyes in annoyance.
This couldn't be real. There was no way Sorin Zaveri, the man who already had a girlfriend, was here to marry me. I had to be dreaming.
But as the dinner progressed, reality sank in. I was seated next to him, my heart racing in my chest, his scent intoxicating. But he was distant. Cold.
At some point, I dropped my fork, my trembling fingers betraying me. Everyone’s eyes turned to me, but not his. Never his. I could feel the heat of embarrassment flooding my cheeks.
After dinner, Laura suggested I show Sorin around the house. My parents quickly agreed, and I found myself leading him outside to the garden.
The silence between us was thick with awkwardness. My mind raced for something—anything—to say. But before I could, his deep voice cut through the tension.
"How long have you lived here?"
I blinked, stunned that he was speaking to me. "Uh... forever, I guess," I stammered.
He hummed in response, his eyes scanning the garden. "This place seems familiar. Like I've been here before."
I had no idea what to say to that. Before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out of my mouth. "Don't you have a girlfriend?"
His head snapped toward me, his eyes narrowing. For a moment, he looked taken aback before his expression hardened. "How do you know about that?"
I swallowed hard, trying to cover my tracks. "I... I don’t know. I was just asking."
His jaw clenched. "No. I don't." The words were sharp, clipped, as if they pained him to say them.
Relief washed over me, though it felt tainted by the tension between us.
But as quickly as that relief came, it vanished. Because Sorin Zaveri was still miles out of reach. And no matter what happened next, I knew one thing for sure.
He would never be mine.
Chapter Three
How many times had I dreamed of this moment? How many nights had I imagined walking down the aisle, the love of my life waiting for me at the altar?
Everything was perfect. Almost everything. Except for the man standing at the end of that aisle, the man I was supposed to marry. The man whose eyes were filled with cold indifference instead of love. My heart ached, and I blinked back the tears threatening to spill, refusing to let them make a scene.
The ceremony was a blur, a haze of vows and traditions I barely registered. My thoughts were consumed with dread as I realized what awaited me — a home where I'd be alone with him, a man who clearly didn’t want me.
During the car ride back, Sorin sat as far away from me as the backseat allowed, his gaze fixed outside the window, his silence as heavy as the tension between us. I wanted to say something, anything to break the ice, but the fear of irritating him kept my lips sealed. I couldn’t help but glance at him, at his strong profile, every feature so painfully familiar from the countless times I'd admired him from afar.
“Quit staring. It's irritating.” His voice was icy, cutting through the silence like a blade. He cast me a brief glance, the look in his eyes sharper than his words.
“Sorry,” I whispered, my cheeks burning as I quickly looked away.
When we arrived at his house — no, his mansion — it felt like stepping into a dream, or rather, a nightmare. The place was as grand as one could imagine, but it held no warmth for me. It wasn’t a home; it was a gilded cage.
I followed him inside in silence, my stomach in knots as he led me to our bedroom. "Our" bedroom. I hadn’t expected that. Seeing the surprise on my face, he rolled his eyes and sighed. “My parents locked the other rooms. Apparently, they’re adamant that we sleep in the same one.”
Embarrassment washed over me. His parents clearly had hopes for this union that didn’t align with reality. He gestured towards the couch. “You’ll sleep there.”
I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. As I approached the couch, I noticed a pillow and blanket already laid out, a silent but clear arrangement. I sank into the cushions, trying to make myself comfortable.
"Wait." His sudden command startled me. I turned, finding him pinching the bridge of his nose, visibly conflicted.
He sighed heavily. “Never mind.”
Confused, I resumed my place on the couch. But before I could relax, he spoke again. “No, wait.” He looked exasperated, as if warring with himself. “You can... share the bed. If you’re comfortable.”
I hesitated, my eyes drifting to the bed. It was large enough for both of us, but sharing it felt too intimate, too overwhelming. Still, the couch wasn’t exactly inviting either.
“Are you sure?” I finally asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded stiffly. “Yes.”
Taking a deep breath, I got up and slowly made my way to the bed. He laid down on one side, and I settled on the other, making sure to keep as much distance as possible. My back was to him, and I prayed that sleep would come quickly, though I doubted it would.
Just as I was starting to relax, I heard the sound of pillows being moved. I glanced over my shoulder to see him placing a row of pillows between us.
“I hope you don’t kick in your sleep,” he muttered, his tone dry.
Heat rushed to my face. "I don’t think I do," I mumbled, though I wasn’t entirely sure.
The night passed in tense silence, but at some point, I must have drifted off. A sudden groan woke me, and I blinked groggily, trying to figure out what had happened. My heart sank when I realized that, in my sleep, I had somehow managed to kick Sorin in the chest.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” I gasped, covering my mouth in horror.
He glared at me, jaw clenched, clearly in pain. He shoved my leg back over to my side of the bed and got up without a word, heading straight for the bathroom.
“I’m sorry,” I called out again, desperate for some form of forgiveness. “Does it hurt a lot?”
He ignored me, his face a mask of irritation as he disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. A tear slid down my cheek, but I quickly wiped it away. Crying wouldn’t help. Nothing would.
I decided to make breakfast, hoping maybe it would soften the edges between us. By the time I finished, I heard him coming down the stairs, impeccably dressed in a navy blue suit. He looked just as handsome as ever, but he walked past the kitchen without a glance in my direction.
“Um… breakfast?” I stammered, trying to gather the courage to speak.
He paused for a fraction of a second, then continued walking toward the front door. Without so much as a word, he left, slamming the door behind him.
I stared at the untouched plates in front of me, my heart sinking further. I sat down at the table and forced myself to eat, though every bite tasted like ash. The lump in my throat grew with each passing second as the reality of my situation settled in.
Sorin would never love me. I was nothing more than an inconvenience to him, a burden he’d been forced to bear. My heart longed for something, someone to care about me, but all I had was emptiness.
Tears welled up again, but this time, I didn’t bother to fight them back. No one would see. No one cared.
I just wanted to be loved.
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Chapter Four
With nothing but time on my hands, I wandered aimlessly around the house, hoping to find something, anything, to distract me from the emptiness I felt. The first floor was fairly ordinary: a cozy living room, a modern kitchen, and... a gym? It was a bit surprising to find picture frames hung in a gym, of all places.
Curious, I moved closer. One of the photos caught my eye. It was of Sorin as a child, maybe three years old, grinning widely at the camera. He wore a dark blue shirt and jeans, standing in what appeared to be a garden. His youthful innocence was heartwarming. But then I noticed someone else in the photo—a boy, maybe eight years old, with a gentle smile and soft blue eyes, his hand resting protectively on Sorin’s shoulder.
The resemblance between the two was striking. Was this Sorin’s brother? No, he never mentioned siblings. Perhaps a cousin? Whoever he was, they seemed close.
My eyes shifted to the next photo, and my stomach twisted. There was Sorin again, but this time, he wasn’t alone. Harlow Sullivan was by his side, her arms wrapped around his neck as she kissed his cheek, both of them smiling, the Eiffel Tower in the background. They looked perfect together, like two puzzle pieces that fit effortlessly. As much as it stung to admit, they were meant for each other.
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I walked out of the gym, my chest feeling tighter with every step, a chill settling over me. The sense of loneliness was overwhelming, like a cold wind that kept pushing against me, driving out any remnants of warmth.
That evening, I decided to make dinner. Maybe, just maybe, if he came home, he’d sit down and share a meal with me. I wasn’t expecting much—just the hope that maybe he’d take pity on me. I wasn’t a terrible cook, and I certainly wouldn’t poison him, though I was sure he’d think otherwise.
As I set the table, my eyes flickered to the clock. It was already 10:30 pm. He hadn’t come home yet, and with every tick of the clock, my hope dwindled. By the time it was close to eleven, I realized it was pointless. He wasn’t coming back for dinner, and if he did, he’d have already eaten elsewhere.
I stared at the plate in front of me, the food going cold. Why did I keep doing this to myself? Why did I keep hoping? I took a bite of the chicken wing I’d made, tasting not just the flavor of the meal, but the saltiness of my own tears as they spilled down my cheeks.
I hated being this weak, this broken. I clenched my jaw, wiping my face furiously, determined to hold myself together. But the ache in my chest only deepened.
When the clock struck one in the morning, I was still awake, lying in bed, wondering where he was. Was he okay? Did he even think about coming home? Despite everything, I worried about him. No matter how much he despised me, I cared. He was the reason I was still breathing, no matter how messed up that sounded.
Sleep tugged at my eyelids, and as much as I fought it, I eventually lost the battle. When I woke the next morning, sunlight streaming through the window, I immediately turned to the other side of the bed. It was untouched. He never came home.
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Panic bubbled up inside me. Where had he been all night? Maybe he stayed at the office? Or maybe he crashed at a friend’s place? My thoughts ran wild. What if he’d been in an accident?
No, I couldn’t think like that. He was fine. He had to be.
The hardest part of loving someone who doesn’t love you back is the constant battle between wanting to tell them how much you care and knowing it won’t matter. But still, you want them to know—want them to realize that no matter how they treat you, someone out there cares enough to ask how their day was, if they had dinner, or if they’re okay.
Maybe one day I’ll tell him how I feel. But hope is a dangerous thing, and I had clung to it far too long.
I made breakfast, as I always did, knowing full well he wouldn’t touch it. But it was all I could do. I ate my portion in silence and left the rest for him, out of habit more than anything.
Then, I heard the front door creak open. My heart leapt, and I rushed out of the room, stopping at the top of the stairs. Sorin was finally home. But something was different.
He’d left in a suit, but now he was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, his hair messy. My eyes fell on the dark mark on his neck—a hickey, right where his neck met his shoulder. My stomach dropped.
So, that’s where he’d been. With her.
I stood frozen as he climbed the stairs, our eyes meeting for just a second before his face hardened, a scowl replacing whatever peace he’d felt moments ago. Without a word, he brushed past me, heading to his room.
The hurt hit me then. I’d been nothing but an afterthought to him, someone he couldn’t even stand to look at. It crushed me, knowing that I disgusted him so much that he couldn’t bear my presence.
Taking a deep breath, I fought back the tears that threatened to spill again. I followed him into the bedroom a few minutes later, my heart heavy. He was in the bathroom, the sound of the shower running. I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands trembling, trying to keep my composure.
When the bathroom door opened, he walked out with nothing but a towel slung low on his hips. My eyes dropped immediately, but that didn’t stop the heat that flushed through me.
Keeping my gaze on the floor, I quietly said, "Breakfast is ready."
His response was as cold as ice. "I didn’t ask you to make any."
It felt like a slap. I swallowed hard. "I know... but I did. And... it doesn’t taste that bad."
Suddenly, he was in front of me, his body towering over mine. I backed up instinctively, but the bed behind me stopped my retreat.
"Stop pretending to be my wife," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You’ll never be her."
I stammered, struggling to find words. "I’m not... I’m not trying to be... I just... I just wanted to do something decent."
For a second, I thought he would lash out. But instead, he stepped back, retreating into the closet without another word. The silence hung heavy in the room, my heart pounding in my chest.
I sat back down on the bed, shaky but oddly proud of myself. At least, for once, I had spoken up.
Chapter Five
Overwhelmed by my sudden rush of emotions, I hurried downstairs before he could leave the closet, trying to appear busy. I grabbed a cloth and began wiping the kitchen counter, even though it was spotless.
A minute passed, and I heard him come down the stairs. Keeping my back to him, I continued cleaning, hoping to avoid any interaction. Relief washed over me when I heard the front door open and close. He didn’t say anything.
I needed a job—something to save up for law school in Seattle. I remembered a café just down the street. Maybe it was time to venture out and try my luck there.
I pulled on a light purple sleeveless top with thin straps, paired it with my favorite jeans, and tied my hair into a high ponytail. Grabbing my phone, I stepped outside for the first time since I arrived.
The fresh air was a welcome change, and a gentle breeze tickled my skin as I walked down the street. The overcast sky mirrored my mood, but for a moment, I found comfort in the simple beauty of it all. Soon, I arrived at the café: Love & Coffee.
Suppressing the urge to judge the name, I took a deep breath and pushed the glass door open. The warm scent of coffee and pastries enveloped me, instantly soothing my nerves. The café’s simple elegance, with its white and brown décor, felt inviting.
The counter was busy, but I managed to squeeze into the line. When it was my turn, I approached the girl taking orders. “Excuse me,” I stammered, “I’m...looking for a part-time job. Could I...speak to the manager?”
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Her understanding smile eased my anxiety. “Hang on, I’ll get the owner for you.”
A minute later, she returned with a man following behind her. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, with messy dark curls and striking green eyes. Dressed in black from head to toe, he wore a warm smile.
He led me to a table and gestured for me to sit. “So, you’re looking for a job?” His voice was friendly, his tone casual.
“Yes,” I replied, struggling to steady my nerves. “I really need one. I don’t have much experience, but I’m a fast learner and willing to do anything.”
A waiter appeared with two glasses of water, and he slid one toward me with a soft chuckle. “Relax. Drink some water first. You look nervous.”
Gratefully, I took a few sips. “My name’s Drea,” I added, barely louder than a whisper.
“Drea. That’s a beautiful name,” he complimented, making me blush. “I’m Atlas, the owner. We’re short on staff, so you’re in luck.”
My heart leaped. “Really? You’re not joking?”
He laughed again. “Not at all. You can start whenever you’re ready.”
I smiled, disbelief still lingering. “Can I start today?”
“Sure,” he said, standing up. “Let me show you around.”
Atlas patiently walked me through the café, teaching me how to operate the machines and showing me the ropes. His kindness and patience were a breath of fresh air. By the end of the day, I felt a strange sense of contentment. I was exhausted but grateful.
As the café prepared to close, I noticed it was pouring rain outside. I sighed, realizing I had no umbrella. The house wasn’t far, but I would get drenched.
“Need a hand?” a voice came from behind me. I turned to see Atlas holding an umbrella.
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“Um, I’ll manage,” I replied sheepishly.
“Nonsense,” he said, stepping closer. “I’ll walk you home. It’s no trouble.”
I hesitated. “I don’t want to burden you.”
“Drea,” he smiled gently, “I offered. It’s no burden.”
Reluctantly, I agreed, and we stepped out into the rain. Walking close under the small umbrella, I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. My cheeks flushed at the proximity.
“Where do you live?” he asked after a moment of silence.
“Just down the street,” I replied, trying to calm my racing heart.
“And you?” I asked, suddenly curious.
“Same direction, but a bit further,” he said with a grin. “No need to apologize for the extra steps.”
We shared a quiet laugh, and for the first time in a long while, I felt at ease with someone. His presence was comforting.
When we reached the house, I stopped, feeling my cheeks heat up again. “Thank you, Atlas.”
He smiled warmly. “Anytime, Drea. See you tomorrow.”
As I stepped inside, still slightly damp, I wasn’t prepared to see Sorin sitting in the living room, his eyes locked on me. His suit jacket was tossed carelessly on the couch, the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing his toned chest. A glass of whiskey rested in his hand.
“Who was that?” he asked, his voice deceptively calm, but I could sense the underlying tension.
I froze, my heart pounding. “Just... a guy from the café. It was raining, and he offered to walk me home.”
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Sorin raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Don’t let strangers walk you home. Text me next time you’re going to be late.”
“I... I don’t have your number,” I stammered, trying to make sense of his sudden concern.
Without a word, he stood, walking toward me. My pulse raced as he stopped inches away. “Phone,” he said.
I fumbled for my phone, handing it to him. He dialed his number and handed it back. “There. Now you do.”
As he leaned in, his voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ll ignore the fact you have my picture as your wallpaper. For now.”
My heart stopped. Oh, God.
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Chapter Six
As I handed over my phone, which wasn’t password protected, he glanced at the screen and his brows knitted in confusion. After a pause, he tapped in a number, and within seconds, his own phone rang in response.
Silently, he hung up and passed my phone back to me. "All set."
"Thanks," I murmured, trying to mask my nerves.
Then, without warning, he leaned in, his proximity making my breath catch. In a low, teasing voice, he said, "I'm choosing to ignore the fact that you have my picture as your wallpaper. For now."
Oh no.
"So," he continued, dragging the word out, "care to explain now, or should I give you time to come up with a better excuse?"
My mind went completely blank. What could I possibly say? That I've been hopelessly in love with him for the past three years? Yeah, that’d go over well.
Heat rushed to my face, my ears practically burning with embarrassment. I had the overwhelming urge to escape his penetrating gaze that seemed to see straight through me.
I shifted slightly, hoping to slip away, but he was quicker. His hands came up to either side of my head, pinning me between him and the door.
I held my breath as he leaned in even closer, tilting his head slightly. His gray eyes sparkled with amusement, locking onto mine in a way that made my pulse race.
When his face was inches from mine, my eyes fluttered closed, heart pounding wildly. His breath was warm on my lips.
No, he wouldn’t kiss me. He couldn’t. He had a girlfriend, after all.
As much as I wanted it, this wasn't how I imagined it happening.
His lips brushed mine—so faint, it was like a whisper of a touch. Then, just as quickly, he pulled back, leaving me breathless.
A sly smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Just as I thought," he muttered, but loud enough for me to hear. And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving me frozen in place, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
I woke up early the next morning, filled with excitement for my shift at the café. Sorin, still sound asleep beside me, was facing the opposite way. Careful not to wake him, I quietly went about my morning routine.
He worked so hard, constantly pushing himself. I knew that, given my... tendency to keep tabs on him.
Once ready, I headed downstairs. But as I neared the bottom, I heard something—voices coming from the kitchen.
What the hell?
We were the only ones here... Weren’t we?
A flood of panic rushed through me. Should I wake Sorin? Or was I just imagining things?
I tiptoed toward the kitchen, heart in my throat. Then I saw her—someone was there. A woman. Cooking.
What kind of burglar breaks into a house to make breakfast?
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She wore a black sundress, humming softly as she moved. Before I could react, she turned, and our eyes locked.
My heart skipped a beat as recognition hit me. It was her.
"Hey, Drea," she greeted me casually, placing a plate of waffles on the table.
I blinked, speechless.
"I'm Harlow," she continued with a soft smile.
"Y-yeah... I know who you are," I stammered.
"I’m so glad we finally met," she said, stepping toward me, that same polite smile never faltering.
My mind was racing. What was happening? Why was she here?
"I can see you're a bit startled," Harlow said, her tone sympathetic. "Sorry about that. Sorin and I have keys to each other's places. I just thought I’d surprise him with breakfast before we head to work. And don't worry, I made some for you too."
I stood there, paralyzed, unable to form a coherent response.
Sensing my shock, her smile wavered. "Are you okay? Maybe you should sit down. Let me get you some water." Gently, she guided me to the table and placed a plate in front of me, vanilla waffles drizzled with chocolate syrup and topped with whipped cream.
I stared at it, too stunned to eat.
"It's not poisoned," she joked, laughing softly, as if the situation were normal.
"W-why are you doing this?" I managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
She sighed and took a bite of her own waffle. "I used to hate you, you know. When Sorin told me about your marriage, I was furious. But then, I realized it wasn't your fault. Neither of you wanted this. And... I couldn't keep hating someone who was as much a victim of this situation as I was. So, I wanted to meet you. Apologize, even."
"Oh," I breathed out, overwhelmed by her honesty. How would she react if she knew I was in love with her boyfriend?
"Please, forgive me, Drea," she continued, her voice soft. "I resented you for getting to marry Sorin, while I couldn’t. But now... I just want us to be friends."
I forced a smile, even as her words stung. "It’s okay... You don’t need to apologize. You’re his girlfriend, after all. I’m the outsider here."
"Don’t say that," she insisted. "You’re not unwanted. You’re my friend now."
How could I hate her when she was being so damn nice?
She nudged the plate toward me. "Come on, eat something. I promise, they’re not bad."
Not wanting to seem ungrateful, I took a bite. The waffle was delicious, almost melting in my mouth.
"They’re amazing," I admitted, nodding.
Her face lit up. "I’m so glad you like them."
Just then, Sorin came downstairs, fully dressed for work. His gaze flicked between us, clearly confused.
"Harlow?" he asked, surprised.
"Morning, babe," she chirped.
His brow furrowed. "What’s going on?"
"I told you I wanted to meet Drea," she replied matter-of-factly. "Since you didn’t make it happen, I took matters into my own hands. And I made breakfast."
"I’m running late," he muttered, clearly flustered.
She rolled her eyes playfully. "I know, that’s why I packed some for you. Let’s go."
Turning to me, she smiled. "It was great meeting you, Drea. I hope we can do this again soon."
I nodded stiffly. "Bye, Harlow."
Linking her arm with Sorin’s, they left the house together. My chest tightened as I watched them on the security footage. Harlow stopped by her car, pulling Sorin into a kiss, and he kissed her back without hesitation.
I closed my eyes, trying to remind myself of the truth. He was never mine. He never would be.
I wiped at my eyes, trying to hide the evidence of the tears I’d shed only moments ago.
The warm, inviting scent of the café greeted me as I made my way to the kitchen. Inside, Atlas was meticulously working on a latte, his concentration so intense it made me smile.
"Morning, Atlas," I called softly.
His head snapped up, and his face lit up. "Drea! You’re a bit late. I was starting to worry."
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, feeling shy. "Sorry about that."
"Ah, don’t worry. You’re here now." He grinned. "How are you?"
His tone was playful, almost flirtatious, and I couldn’t help but laugh softly. It felt good—like maybe, just for a little while, I could forget the ache in my chest.
Later that afternoon, Atlas asked me to serve a family that had come in for a birthday celebration. As I carried water to their table, my focus was on not spilling a drop.
But then I heard a familiar voice, one I hadn’t heard in years.
"Drea?"
I looked up, and there he was, standing in front of me.
"Adrian?"
