The bouquet of red roses sitting pretty in the trash bin, the sweet fragrance interlocking with the smell of coffee and also last night’s leftovers. Alexis just couldn’t take her eyes off them, her fists tightened. Still the memories of Haven's betrayal were still fresh.It had been five days since she caught her husband in a compromising position with his secretary, Cassandra. Five days of silence, of avoiding eye contact, of pretending Haven didn't exist. Five days of him trying to explain, to apologize, to make things right. But Alexis wasn't ready to listen. Not yet.She walked away from the trash bin and tried to make herself breakfast, the sound of the kitchen pots and spoons filled the air. She heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Her body froze but didn’t turn around."Good morning, Alexis," Haven said softly, his voice laced with hope and trepidation.Alexis kept whisking eggs, pretending to have not heard him. She knew he was staring at her, hope for her to face him.Have
Tyrone’s eyes opened weakly, the bright light of the fluorescent of the hospital room assaulting his vision. The steady beep of the heart monitor fill the room with its little noise, a constant reminder of his delicate situation. He tried to change his position on the bed, but still a pain shot through his body causing him to groan a little."Easy there, buddy," a familiar voice said from beside him, which he recognized to be Fred’s. "You've been through hell, don’t stress it too much.""I need... I need some time," Tyrone said finally, his voice barely audible but weak and full of anguish.Fred nodded, standing up. "Of course, man. I'll go grab some coffee, give you a few minutes. You want anything?"Tyrone shook his head meaning he didn’t want anything, then Fred patted his shoulder and left the room. As Fred closed the door behind his friend, Tyrone gave a shaky breath, tears starting to form in his eyes and he tried to hold it.He tried to sit up, ignoring the pain that shot throu
Tyrone’s just regained consciousness slowly as his eyes opened a little. His eyes opened, and as soon as he felt the strange softness, he experienced a knotted wrist agony. "Oh God, I’m still here?" He pushed himself up into an upright position and murmured. "You're home, Tyrone, don’t fret it’s okay." From the other side of the room, a low voice replied. Tyrone's eyes fell on the weird man who had been bothering and plaguing him for hours as he tried to find the source of the voice. The man sat in a leather chair, his eyes remaining concentrated and sharp despite his relaxed countenance. "Who are you?" With a voice filled with both rage and dread, Tyrone demanded. . "Why did you bring me to this place?" With his elbows resting on his knees, the man bowed down."I'm Victor, and I'm here to give you the actual deal about your background and origins." Tyrone wrinkled his brow in concern. "What topic are you discussing? Don't tell me that; I am who I am." With a melancholic grin teasin
As Tyrone become more conscious of his environment, it felt like a reluctant tide, with each wave bringing a new surge of fear and discomfort. The first he could notice as he was awake was the incessant pain in his jaw, but darkness was all he could see. Panic rose in his throat as he realized a thick cloth was tied tightly around his head, effectively blindfolding him.Tyrone’s beat grew shorter by the minute, he struggled for breaths as his wrists and ankles were restrained tightly. The chair he sat on made creaking sounds with every movement he made, the cold metal biting into his skin. The air around him felt thick and oppressive, heavy with the scent of musk and decay."H-hello?" he called out, his voice barely above a whisper. The word seemed to hang in the air, swallowed by the suffocating silence of wherever he was being held. Tyrone tried to listen to hear if there is any sign of life outside, or any clue of where he was. But all he heard was the heavy pound of his heart and
The first thing Fred noticed was the cold. It went deep into his bones, making him shiver tirelessly. And with that, brought about other sensations coming through the mist in his mind. The distant traffic, the choking smell of exhaust fumes.Fred forced his eyes open with a sharp pain. The world became more clearer to his eyes, revealing an empty road with a dense forest by its sides. He blinked, his face utterly confused as her tried to navigate his surroundings.Suddenly his face lit up like he remembered something, “Tyrone?” he shouted, his voice rough and too weak to cause any effect. There was no response other than the continuous rustling of leaves against the gentle breeze.Fred pushed himself up, groaning as his head banged with every movement. Panic building in his chest when realising he was alone, he looked around. He was suddenly struck by flashbacks of the previous night's events: Tyrone being taken, the hospital, and the masked men. "Tyrone!" Trying to encourage him to
Tyrone experienced a whirlwind of both pain and confusion going on in his head. The incessant pain running through his body was so great it overshadowed his thirst for water. He could not remember how he got here or what made him feel this great agony. A shadowy figure emerged, towering above Tyrone's beaten body. The masked man, which was somehow scarier than any ever would have been. His voice seemed unclear and distorted making the atmosphere more unstable per second."How are you feeling now?" The question of the masked man was left hanging in the air, without a response. Tyrone tried understanding the question, but his mind was overworking itself. “Did you think you can play naive forever? For what reason? He wanted to reply but he could only manage a low groan. Already swollen, his tongue was unable to form words. A figure came from the darkness and a second masked man who joined the group. He was as well as strict and built like the others but smaller in size. He his still n
The air around grew thick with every inhale of fear and desperation as the exhale was filled with pain. Tyrone’s world has turned around just in the past few hours. Just moments ago, he found out his true identity, that he never knew existed. Now the dream was short lived and turned into a nightmare that comes along with violence and coercion.The mask man, with a menace stature embodied an aura that kept regenerating, stood over him, his voice was low, and he mumbled some words which were not clear. “Sign it,” he demanded, his words indifferent to the grave silence that had filled the room. There was no paper, no pen, Tyrone was looking bewildered, just a chilling ultimatum.Tyrone's mind was unstable. His new inheritance, which he just found out lately, was an emblem of his new identity, a coolness to an unstable mind of his past that was taken from him. To give up the inheritance was to surrender a part of himself. Yet the steel bar that the masked man held tightly on his hand was
The world Tyrone knew and was familiar with all his life, had collapsed into a pile of shambles and suffocating nightmare. He was a prisoner in his own body, a puppet attached to several strings, continuously dancing to the brutal rhythm of the masked men command. The masked men had shown enough coldness that if given the authority could wipe out humanity without blinking. They had given him an ultimatum to give up the company or face the worst he could ever imagine. The choice was a cruel irony, an expensive joke played on a man’s intellectual who had just found his rightful place in the world, a man who just lost everything but saw a way out of all the disdain, a man who just got an inheritance that would last for generations to come.Tyrone’s mind wasn’t stable, the usual rush and traffic of thoughts and emotions filled his soul once again. The company was his inheritance, the only and tangible link to the family he never knew, neither grow up with. Yet, the suffering and pain of
Tyrone had just settled down on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, his fingers apathetically flicking through the tv channels. He had arranged to spend his end of the week unwinding, free from any dramatization. His life had been serene ever since he and Vanessa broke up months back. In spite of the fact that their relationship had been a tornado of enthusiasm, it was moreover full with superfluous contentions, control, and manipulations. He was happy it was over. He was happier now, centering on himself, and now not weighed down by her passionate rollercoaster. The doorbell rang, pulling Tyrone out of his thoughts. He looked at his wristwatch, scowling. He wasn’t expecting anybody. He hurled the inaccessible onto the sofa and headed toward the front door. Opening it, he was met with the sight of none other than Vanessa standing on his balcony, her arms crossed over her chest, her regular grin settled on her lips. Tyrone flickered in shock. “Vanessa? What are you doin
Vanessa observed the sun plunge underneath the skyline through her loft window. Its searing orange beams cast long shadows over her living room, coordinating the turmoil roiling in her mind. Tyrone had been hers—once. They had went through a long time together, building dreams and making plans for the longer term. But all of that changed when Judy entered the picture. Vanessa clenched her clench hands, her knuckles white against the scenery of her profound brown skin. Judy had stolen Tyrone. No—she had enticed him, attracted him away, demolished everything. It wasn’t reasonable. Vanessa paced back and forward in her little, faintly lit flat, her bare feet making delicate crashes against the wooden floor. The sharpness chewed at her. Months had passed since Tyrone and Judy had gotten hitched, and Vanessa’s life had spiralled ever since. Each time she saw them together, grinning, living the life she ought to have had, a new piece of her, smashed. She seems to feel herself falling more
Judy faltered for a minute before she thumped on Tyrone’s front door. Her heart was beating, her palms were clammy, and she may still feel the sting of their final contention new in her mind. The battle they had before she raged out was unstable, filled with yelling, allegations, and a torrent of feelings, not one or the other of them had completely caught on at the time. Tyrone had blamed her for not trusting him, and Judy had let go back, irate and harmed, that he was still hung up on his ex, Vanessa. She knew she shouldn’t be back here so before long, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that they had left things uncertain. After what felt like an forever, the door swung open, and there stood Tyrone, his expression incoherent. His dim eyes bolted onto hers, and for a moment, not one or the other of them talked. The pressure between them was thick, as in spite of the fact that the contention was still hanging within the air , overwhelming and unwavering. “Judy?” Tyrone’s voice brok
Judy had been pacing her flat for hours, the cadenced tap of her heels against the wooden floor as it were sound breaking the hush. She looked at her phone for the tenth time in as many minutes, her thumb drifting over Tyrone's title. It was continuously the same with him—pulling her in, pushing her away, as if to drag her back once more. But this time, Judy decided things would be different . She wasn’t going to let him just walk back into her life without a few kinds of confirmation. She knew precisely what she needed, and she knew she had use. Over town, Tyrone sat at his table, gazing at the city horizon through the wide windows of his office. His domain sprawled out underneath him, a kingdom built on canny deals and heartless aspiration. However, none of it appeared to matter when his thoughts floated to Judy. Their relationship was like a storm, all-consuming and outlandish to foresee. He had made his botches, more than he cared to tally, but he was prepared to make things righ
Tyrone stood outside the door, his hands trembling as he clenched and unclenched his clench hands. The late evening sun showered the neighbourhood in a brilliant tone, but Tyrone felt nothing but the weight of his inconveniences. He might feel the sweat on his chin, each ball of sweat reminding him of the storm brewing in his life. He took a deep breath, his heart beating in his chest, and thumped on the door. Some seconds passed before he listened to the rearranging of feet from the other side. His beat enlivened. Would she indeed open the door? The door squeaked open, and there she stood—Judy, his spouse, the love of his life. She looked at him with a blend of shock and guardedness, her eyes checking his face as if looking for answers he didn’t have. She was wearing a formal blue dress that he had continuously cherished, but presently it felt like a boundary between them, an update of the life they had shared and the one they had misplaced. “What do you need, Tyrone?” Judy inquir
Vanessa had continuously been the kind of lady who got what she needed. She had the charm, the looks, and the mind to drag anybody into her circle. When she and Tyrone were together, they were the envy of everybody they knew. They were the “it” couple—the idealised coordinate, everybody said. But that was a long time back, before Tyrone met Alexis, before everything changed. Vanessa stood at the entrance of the swarmed bar, filtering the ocean of faces until she spotted him. Tyrone sat at a little table by the window, nursing a drink and gazing vacantly out into the night. He looked good—maybe more than he had the last time she saw him, she thought. His shoulders were broader, his fashion more refined, but his eyes still held that recognizable thoughtfulness. Vanessa took a deep breath and walked over, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. “Tyrone,” she said, her voice light, nearly perky, as she pulled the chair over from him and sat down without holding up for a welcome. T
The sun had scarcely risen, but Judy was as of now situated at her extravagant living room couch, coffee in hand, as she looked over thoughtlessly through her phone. Her mornings ordinarily started with a calming routine—coffee, a scroll through social media, and a brief look at the features. But nowadays it is different. As she scrolled through the most recent prattle, her heart halted. A strong feature flashed over her screen: *"Vanessa Reported Pregnant With Tyrone's Child!" Judy’s grasp fixed on her phone, her breath stuck in her throat. Vanessa, Tyrone’s ex-girlfriend, was pregnant. And not just pregnant—pregnant with Tyrone’s child. Judy squinted, hoping the headline to stop, but the words remained the same, dazzling back at her with the cruelty of truth. Her vision obscured as her mind dashed back to all the discussions she’d had with Tyrone about belief, about trustworthiness, and around their future together. He’d told her about Vanessa, about the muddled breakup, and about
Tyrone sat at the edge of his bed, the morning sun casting long shadows on the floor. He hadn’t rested a wink. His mind was a tangled mess of questions, questions, and outrage. He knew one thing for sure: he was planning to get to the foot of the mess that had ended up in his life. The last few weeks had been a hurricane of disclosures and heartbreaks, and Tyrone felt like he was suffocating within the chaos. Vanessa’s pregnancy declaration had hit him like a cargo prepare. They had dated a long time before, but Tyrone was certain their relationship had finished for good. He had moved on, hitched Judy, and begun a life he thought would be filled with adore and solidness. But Vanessa’s sudden return, tummy swollen with child, had tossed everything into confusion. Tyrone ran a hand over his tired face and let out a profound moan. His phone buzzed on the nightstand, breaking the hush. He glanced at the screen—another missed call from Judy. He couldn’t bring himself to reply. Judy had
Tyrone hadn't seen or listened from Vanessa in about a long time. Their relationship had finished in blazes, the kind of breakup that clears out no room for compromise or inviting farewells. So when he spotted her name blazing on his phone one evening, his heart skipped a beat. Recollections of their unstable relationship came flooding back, and he wavered before replying. "Hi?" Tyrone’s voice was cautious, as as if bracing for the most obvious. There was a delay on the other end, and for a minute, he thought she might have hung up. At that point, Vanessa's voice came through, sounding uniquely repressed. "Tyrone, it's me." He breathed out strongly, feeling a blend of alleviation and unease. "Vanessa. Typically ... scared." "Better believe it, I know," she answered, her voice temperamental. "I wouldn't be calling if it wasn't critical." Tyrone scowled, his mind dashing with conceivable outcomes. Vanessa was not one to reach out for unimportant things, particularly not after the w