Fragile Desires (18+)

Sixty-Three | Woman Of The Hour

Pink always seemed like a naive color to me.

A shade for fluffy dresses and bows made of shiny ribbons.

But there she was.

All soft curves and gentle smiles, a walking embodiment of a blooming pink tulip.

But unlike the delicate flower she resembled, there was a quiet strength in the way she held herself.

A hidden resilience, like the firm green stem that anchored the soft flower.

Her eyes held a look that surprised me.

Not the wide-eyed innocence I expected, but a spark that spoke of experience, of battles fought with a smile.

Pink suddenly wasn't naive anymore.

Instead, it was the color of strength cloaked in her grace.

- Ren

♛Chapter Sixty-Three: Woman Of The Hour♛

Everything was so deeply ingrained in my head.

From the moment I explained everything to her—to the moment her face fell and tears gathered in her eyes when I finally said those three words.

Three words that had taken up space in my head, fighting to finally be free.

But I didn't know if it was too soon—if she reciprocated the same feelings.

All my hesitation quickly swirled down the drain tonight, knowing those words could make a difference—that they could change our situation.

Just apparently not to her.

"Ren."

I let out a deep sigh, setting the glass of freshly poured bourbon down—emitting a loud clatter throughout the room.

Anger fueled every fiber in my body—it made my chest ache and my breathing grow unsteady.

Which quickly made me realize... It wasn't anger.

It was hurt.

Laced with disappointment.

Wanting only one thing in the world and being denied of it.

"Ren," his deep voice echoed yet again throughout my office, hoping to finally get my attention.

But I only remained silent, shaking my head to myself.

I would've done anything for her.

I would still do anything for her.

Even now, I sit here contemplating throwing this all away just to join her side.

That's the kind of power she holds over me.

"Renata," his firm voice broke through my heavy thoughts, which were filled purely with her face.

Filled with the tears that I seemed to cause in her eyes.

I suddenly pushed the glass of bourbon away, glancing over to Eli, "What," I said, barely patient enough to form the single word into a question.

I think I'm one minor inconvenience away from a breakdown.

Or maybe I'm already in the midst of one.