Irish Whiskey - An Ex-Lovers to Lovers Standalone

10

A/N: Hello my dear readers! I'm sorry for being MIA, but I was busy with exams and stuff. Three done, two more to go. Upload will be random till March, but bear with me. 

Trigger Warning: Sensitive topics like drug use and self-harm are mentioned. Proceed with caution.

The writing is a but lacking, but give it a chance, you'll have my gratitude. 

I kinda forgot my own plot bc I couldn't revisit it for a while, so if you find any inconsistencies, please don't hesitate to point them out. But please me nice, I'm sensitive, I'll cry.

Happy reading loves. 

I m o g e n

[25y/o, 2017, The Howard Estate, Burlington]

I was jamming to Cage The Elephant while working on a new formula for a lip balm from Grandma's book of recipes. For the past few months, my products have been selling like crazy thanks to some influencers posting about them on social media. My website is being bombarded with orders and my blog which had an average of two monthly readers (Alice and my grandma) was now overflooded with comments demanding more products.

I was grinding my herbs when Bertha, responsible for handling orders and organising the inventory, entered the cellar.

"Oh, hey Bertha," I said, my smile concealed by the medical mask I was wearing.

"Wow, it reeks of mint."

"It does right. I'm experimenting with making a cooling lip balm for the summer. It'll be a hit."

"Technically summer is still a month away but it's already heating up, you should hurry."

"I can feel the heat too. Global warming is really hitting up. It used to be so chilly throughout this period when I was a kid."

"I remember it too." She said, "Oh, by the way, I came here because grandma was calling for you."

"Ah, I'll be up in a minute."

I had turned my bedroom on the first floor into the inventory and negotiated with Grandma to let me take another room to be my office, where Charlie, responsible for packing and mailing the products could work. Grandma didn't want to accept any money from me, in fact, she was quite upset about it, but I felt uncomfortable imposing on her like that.

I was stubborn and she caved in in the end. She still nags me about it.

I walked out of the basement and into the library. The cellar had two entries, one was the door at the left corner of the kitchen and a secret door that connected it to the library. I went to the library because it had another secret passage that led to my bedroom.

Grandma's ancestors used to be some kind of nobles back in the day. So, this mansion, which has had a little renovation, had several secret trapdoors and passages. Though Grandpa had removed most of the traps, I spent a significant amount of time exploring these after graduation. I had nothing better to do then and I was also very depressed. Searching for these hidden contraptions was my only entertainment. Or maybe I'm just a weirdo.

I quickly changed my clothes and walked into the living room.

"Why can't you use the cellar door like normal people?" Grandma asked as I emerged from the opposite side of the kitchen.

"And where's the fun in that?" I shrugged and gave her a playful look but she sighed in response.

"I know you like to use that passage, but you shouldn't strain your leg like that, climbing that rusty ladder."