Author name: Mimy

Dear beloved reader, if you thought the saga ended with Nick, buckle up. My story takes a sharp turn into the unexpected. Sunday morning found me in a flowy white dress, the kind that screams innocence, hope, and maybe just a touch of desperation. I wasn’t just dressing for church—I was dressing for destiny.

Dear beloved reader, let’s take a step back. Stories like these have layers, like peeling an onion—bit by bit, until your eyes sting. If you’ve ever ignored a red flag the very first time, you already know the chaos that awaits.

My name is Masha, or so my friends call me. It’s 2021, and looking back, I can confidently say I was more naive than my age suggested. Don’t judge me yet. My story starts innocently enough, like all tales of heartbreak and hope do.

Ava wasn’t looking for love. She was at the art gallery to escape another tedious day at work as a graphic designer, where her creativity was stifled by endless client revisions. She lingered in front of a bold, abstract painting when a deep voice beside her said, “Looks like someone spilled their emotions on the canvas.”

Jerry and the young lady, Ava, used the clinic as their secret rendezvous spot. While I was under the impression he was receiving treatment, they were meeting privately in one of the back rooms, far from prying eyes.

According to the nurse who accidentally spilled the truth, the clinic had a few unused rooms that Dr. Michaels allowed them to use in exchange for Jerry’s payments. These rooms were set up as cozy lounges, nothing like a medical facility. Jerry and Ava would spend hours together, laughing, talking, and plotting their future.

But it didn’t stop there.

In the days that followed, we grew closer, our stolen moments becoming more frequent and more intense. He told me I was mature beyond my years, that I understood him in ways no one else could. I believed him, letting myself be swept up in his words and the feelings they stirred in me.