SEQUEL TO ALL THE WRONGS To love is to lose. Your sanity, your reason, your heart, your very being. She had come to understand this truth and had embraced it, not with fear, but with acceptance. Even if she ceased to exist as she once was, whatever she became, she would be his. For only in that surrender did she feel whole. Her will had crumbled, her resistance left in ruins. She was no longer the woman she was. She had become someone else, shaped by longing, claimed by a man who should never been hers to want. Yet her pursuit of him was relentless. A forbidden longing. A chase with no end in sight. But how much longer could she play this game alone? Would he ache for her the way she burned for him? Would the mere thought of her unravel him, setting his veins ablaze with a desire so raw it bordered on pain? Would he know the agony of restraint, the torment of wanting what was forbidden, of needing what he could not have? Or would he walk away unscathed, untouched by the fire that had consumed her whole?

He's 44. She's 25. They say age is just a number. Is it really? ••••• They were never supposed to fall in love, but they did. As their hearts converged, against their will. He was a man defined by his rigid persona, an entity wronged by the past. His sole purpose was to survive in the world where everyone's existence is nothing less than detrimental to your own. Except when it comes to his son, a flicker of hope in his diminished life. The only one whom he loved and lived for. Until it changed when he crosses path with a woman, carrying calmness in her eyes and promises in her words. He wanted to keep her to himself, desired the love which she had immense. The only problem? She was young, way too young.