"Kate…" I whisper her name to myself, like a broken prayer.An impossible wish, a wound that never heals. I don’t have the courage to tell her how I feel, and I’m not even sure if what I feel is love. Maybe it’s just obsession, or need, or maybe only loneliness dressed up in something cleaner. But not the way she believes. She thinks I'm a good guy, someone noble, someone who looks after her. Her adoptive uncle’s protégé, her vulnerable charge, her silent shadow. She’ll never know that every time she looks at me, something inside me dies because I can't have her — because I can't be the man I truly want to be.Bitterly, I remember the last time I saw her. It was two weeks ago, maybe longer — I’ve stopped keeping track. ——🩶🐺🩶——Suddenly, the moon appears, emerging from behind the clouds like a cold, inquisitive eye watching everything about to unfold. Its silver light spreads across the beach, covering everything in a tense, heavy silence. The sea churns restlessly, as if it kno

VIOLET SWAN. OREGÓN-PORTLAND. ꘎♡━━━━━━━♡꘎ Despierto bruscamente, como si hubiera recibido un golpe que me saca del mundo de los sueños. — Esto se ha sentido muy real — digo en un murmuro. Lo que al inicio era solo un sueño muy bonito, lleno de colores cálidos y sensaciones tranquilas, terminó convirtiéndose en una horrible pesadilla. Todavía puedo escuchar en mi mente los ecos lejanos de gritos que mi mente no recuerda lo que decían. Me incorporo lentamente sobre la cama, sintiendo el suave roce de las sábanas contra mi piel. Anoche no puse suficiente atención al lugar, estaba demasiado cansada como para fijarme en los detalles, pero ahora bajo la tímida luz de la mañana, decido tomarme el tiempo suficiente para admirar cada detalle de la habitación que me rodea. Las paredes son altas, de un sombrío, pero acogedor color marfil que refleja la poca luz que entra por el amplio ventanal. Afuera, el cielo se muestra gris, como si estuviera decidiendo si dejar caer una lluvia suave

KATE CONNOR. ꘎♡━━━━━━━♡꘎ *"Miss, there’s a lot to do and those contracts should’ve been signed a long time ago…"**"Just leave," I reply without lifting my gaze, my voice as cold as frozen glass. "One more word and you're fired."*I don’t have the time or the will for this kind of nonsense. My mind is far away from paperwork and meetings. What really matters to me right now is knowing whether she's alive… or at least if she’s okay.*"Yes, ma’am."* My secretary closes the door behind her quietly, like she’s afraid even the sound of it might break the icy air in the room.I’m left alone in the office, surrounded by gray walls, dark furniture, and windows that look out onto places I no longer care about. The air smells of old coffee and expensive perfume — something artificial, just like everything around me lately. My phone vibrates in my hands with an almost cruel frequency. The images on the screen fill me with equal parts resentment, pain, and sadness.I close my eyes for a se

The day has been absolute chaos — a rollercoaster of shadows shifting between unspoken words, glances heavy with the past, and truths I never imagined I’d learn. Every step I’ve taken since we left Mom’s house feels like walking a tightrope between pain and something new, something I still don’t quite understand. I hear the car engine cut off, and all my focus lands on Aaron. We’re so close, yet everything feels different now. So far from the man I once knew — though I can’t deny I really like these changes. The way he looks at me now, his softer tone, that patience he never had with me before — it all fits together like puzzle pieces finally finding their place.“We’re home, sweetie,” he says flirtatiously, leaning into my seat after unbuckling his belt. “Violet, how are you feeling after seeing her?” he asks while brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.The touch of his fingers is as gentle as if he feared breaking me with just one stroke.“I won’t lie — I was scared at first, Aa

VIOLET SWAN. OREGÓN-PORTLAND. ꘎♡━━━━━━━♡꘎ I look at the bandage on my arm and it’s impossible not to think about Eric. I can’t get out of my head that all of this is my fault. The white fabric reminds me where I am, who I am, and how much I’ve changed. My fingers instinctively brush against the soft material, as if needing to make sure it’s there… that I’m still here too.“With this, your wounds will heal faster,” says the woman in white in front of me. Her voice is professional, but carries a gentle tone I hadn’t expected. I lift my gaze to her, noticing how her hands move with precision as she puts away some instruments. She’s someone used to control, to routine… and maybe also to seeing things she’d rather not talk about.“Rejected?” I ask, confused. According to Eric, I was a good candidate for this. I glance at my hands and carefully pull down the sleeves of my blouse. I don’t like seeing my marks. I don’t like remembering how they got there. I try to smile, but only manage