𝚃𝚛𝚞𝚎 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙽𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙴𝚗𝚍𝚜.

33. Rewrite'

Lily Rose

The night unfolded like a secret—the kind that whispered promises and held the weight of memories. Sam and I sat cross-legged on the plush living room carpet, surrounded by a fortress of pillows. The flickering screen cast shadows on the walls, and the scent of buttered popcorn hung in the air.

The movie playing in the background brought nostalgia. "Li, do you remember us sneaking out on the treehouse just to watch the little shows? " I smiled nodding my head. " Of course Sam Every Tuesday night we would sneak out. " He hummed.

" Those days were not good, those created demons for us but in those moments we still shared our little moments which helped our demons to stay away." Sam sighed as he rested his head on my shoulder.

"Sam," I said, my voice conspiratorial, "this is our rebellion."

He grinned, his eyes alight. "Rebellion against what, Lily?"

"Against the legacy," I replied. "Against the darkness that once consumed us."

The movie played—a classic, something about star-crossed lovers. But it didn't matter. The real magic was in the room—the laughter that bubbled up, the clink of tequila glasses, and the way Sam snorted when the hero made a grand declaration.

And then, as if summoned by our joy, Chris appeared. His silhouette framed the doorway, and I forgot to breathe for a moment. He wore a faded T-shirt, his hair tousled. The years had been kind to him—etched character into his features.

"Am I interrupting?" Chris asked, his voice soft.

"No," Sam said, patting the empty spot beside him. "Join us."

Chris settled in, and suddenly, the room felt smaller and cosier. The movie played on, but our attention shifted—to shared glances, to memories that danced just beyond reach.

"A year passed but I still remember how Zaeden got jealous once and Oh, the day was nothing but torture to him. I mean at the end of the day Lily got fucke- Ouchh! " Chris screamed as I hit him playfully on the head.

"Remember when we used to sneak into the kitchen at night?" Chris said, his eyes crinkling. "Popcorn and tequila—our secret recipe." Chris laughed as if reminiscing about the memory.         "Excuse me that's my recipe I was the one who made that thing. "

Sam raised his glass. "To rebellion," he said.

"To rewrite our story," I added, and we clinked our glasses.

The movie faded into background noise. We talked—about everything and nothing. About the mansion, the legacy, and the women we'd saved. About love lost and found.

Chris nudged me. "You left," he said, "but you came back."

"I had to," I replied. "To break free."

Sam leaned back, his gaze on the ceiling. "And Zaeden?"

I hesitated. "He's my ally," I said. "My confidant."

Chris chuckled. "Sounds serious."

"It is," I admitted. "But love doesn't absolve us of responsibility."

And so, in that dimly lit room, we laughed until tears blurred our vision. The movie ended, but our night continued—a tapestry of shared history, forgiveness and redemption.

The night wrapped around us like a velvet cloak. Our steps echoed until we were on the balcony. The balcony cradled our secrets—the wooden floor cool against our skin. Chris, Sam, and I sat in a triangle of vulnerability, the moon our silent witness.