❝𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓'𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒓.❞
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There's a saying that one is entitled to keep whatever they find but the question is: can you always keep what you find?
Wren Ashenherst was raised as a boy and expected to live under the...
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her sixth sense
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I stayed at the rooftop even after Mallory had left and stared blankly towards taller buildings ahead of me. I wished there could be a sign — a direction to point me towards which path of life I should head towards. I always thought I was a decisive individual, but it was exactly at this moment that I felt utterly lost.
Suddenly, my phone shuddered in my pocket and I took out the phone to see Wren's name appearing right on my lit screen. My finger didn't even hesitate to swipe to answer, like how I would always yearn for her. Placing the speakers near my ear, it was as though her voice had morphed into the summer breeze and wrapped me within her warmth when she asked, "Did I catch you at the wrong time?"
I denied, "No, angel. Is something wrong?"
Wren went silent for quite a long while before she finally uttered something, "I'm just worried about you."
"I'm fine," I lied and layered another lie over it, "I will be back as soon as possible."
"If the Findlays are giving you a hard time, you can always call me in," Wren offered, even though I had outrightly excluded her from my matters the previous time she called.
Trying my hardest to sound as okay as I could, I gave a light chuckle, "I could hardly define a hard time because my whole life seemed to be as such, my little songbird."
"Aillard," Wren sighed, but the sound of that name felt like a painful pinch in my heart.
"I'm sorry to have you worry about me, and I'll make sure to get you to come to my rescue if I'm in trouble, okay?" I assured.
"Promise?"
I took a small inhale before damning myself with another lie to her, "Promise."
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