Temptress

47|Healing

Sereia's POV

T W O  M O N T H S  L A T E R

I hummed a random tune as I planted my sunflowers in the ground.

It's been two months since I packed my things and left Chicago.

Things were very different over here in Maine, just like I expected.

The air is always tinged with the salty tang of the sea for starters, and it's very slow compared to the fast pace of Chicago.

The small town I settled in was filled with charm and helpful people.

Oh, and the coastline is breathtaking. It's a rugged, ever-changing stretch where the land meets the Atlantic in dramatic fashion with lighthouses everywhere.

I've also changed quite a bit.

I've decided to let go of Violet. I won't forget her, but I'm putting myself first.

No more dedicating my life to avenge my dead sister.

I even tried to become blond again, but when I saw the roots, I immediately died them back.

That blond girl is gone. She's changed into a strong, rich, independent woman.

I've stopped crying in the dark as a form of punishment. If I wanted to cry, I'd cry with the lights on.

Crying isn't a bad thing, but torturing myself in the dark is.

Elliot's advice stuck with me through the weeks.

We haven't spoken since I slammed the door in his face.

I just felt like I was holding him back and thought that each time he saw me, it would be a constant reminder of how much of a liar I am.

And I was right, I was keeping him back.

He and his new director have been making headlines after headlines, capturing the attention of the finance and business world.

Just last week, Harrington Financial Group shattered expectations and broke a long-standing industry record by securing the largest merger in the company's history.

The deal, worth billions, sent shockwaves through the market, solidifying their position as a dominant force in the financial sector.

I felt happy for him. He is a very ambitious man after all.

However, he's changed.

He let his beard grow out, its rough edges framing a face that had forgotten how to smile.

In every picture taken now, there was no hint of the easy grin he once wore—just a stern, distant expression that seemed to mirror the changes in his life.

Sometimes I sit for hours at a time staring at his pictures, wishing I could see his smile again.

My body sometimes craved him at night, missing every touch and kiss he used to give me.

I'm still lonely.

Apart from gardening and taking afternoon walks along the coastline, I'm still that single, jobless 24-year-old.

I had already started to feel bored of the slow-paced life.

I missed the rush of everything.

I missed my job.

I missed him.

After everything that happened, I still haven't been able to feel the happiness I get whenever I'm with him.