Michaella, a gifted writer, finds herself haunted by the memories of a love that slipped through her fingers. As she pens down her heartache and cherished moments with Gabrielle, an architect whose charm and warmth once made her world brighter, she...
The soft chime of my alarm pulled me from sleep, a quiet reminder of the day ahead. I stretched, reaching for my phone on the nightstand, its screen glowing with notifications. One caught my eye immediately—a new email. My stomach twisted when I saw the subject line:
"New Opportunity: Write, Work, and Live in London – Urgent."
I blinked, trying to shake off the lingering sleepiness. The original offer to write a second book had already been on my mind for weeks, but this... this was something more. My fingers hovered over the screen, hesitating for just a moment before opening the email.
As I scrolled through the details, my heart raced. They weren't just offering me the chance to write the sequel; they wanted me to move to London for a year-long residency. But there was more. It wasn't just about writing. I'd have the chance to work with publishing houses there, expanding my network in ways I'd never dreamed of. It felt surreal.
London. The thought sent a wave of excitement through me—followed swiftly by a heavy knot of anxiety. Could I really leave everything behind for a year? The life I'd built here, the people I loved—it all felt so overwhelming.
I sighed, sitting up in bed, my thoughts racing. I had a week to make a decision, but time already seemed to slip through my fingers.
I stood in the middle of my apartment later that morning, staring at the mess I had accumulated over the past few weeks. Clothes draped over chairs, half-finished manuscripts scattered across the dining table, notebooks piling up everywhere. It was a reflection of my mind—cluttered and chaotic.
Today wasn't about packing, not yet. It was about organizing my thoughts, my space, trying to gain some control over the whirlwind in my life. With a deep breath, I grabbed a box and began sorting through the papers, notes, and manuscripts.
As I worked, my mind kept drifting back to the email. London would be a fresh start—a chance to distance myself from the weight of the past. From Gabrielle. From the complicated relationships I couldn't seem to escape.
But it would also mean leaving behind the stability I'd found here. My friends, my family, the life I'd built in New York. Was I ready to let go of it, even for a year?
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I had planned to meet my mom later that day. The usual spot, a quiet café nestled between towering apartment buildings, felt like a familiar refuge. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as I walked in, spotting her already seated by the window.
I smiled as I joined her, ordering my usual cappuccino while she sipped her coffee. I wasn't sure how to start the conversation, but I knew I needed her guidance.
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