Arielle once believed love was supposed to feel like urgency - breathless, bright, impossible to hold without burning. She gave her heart young, fiercely, thinking intensity meant destiny.
But life taught her something quieter:
sometimes the real breaking isn't loud - it's slow, invisible, and lonely.
Now she's rebuilding.
Not chasing closure... becoming it.
There is someone from her past - a memory shaped like a first love, returning not to reclaim what once was, but to acknowledge what can never be again.
And there is someone in her present - steady hands, quiet mornings, laughter that doesn't demand, warmth offered without rush - a presence that feels like safety instead of rescue.
Yet this isn't a love triangle.
It's a woman learning she is not choosing between two men -
she is choosing herself, and the life she wants to grow into.
Healing doesn't roar here.
It whispers.
It rests.
It rebuilds.
This is a story of:
• love that once burned
• love that now breathes
• and a heart learning the difference
Not every ending is explosive.
Some are soft.
Some are earned in silence.
Some aren't endings at all - just beginnings with the lights turned on.
A romance about growing up, letting go, and finding love that feels like peace - not proof.
✍🏽 Author Bio - Mercy Oke
Mercy Oke writes emotional contemporary romance rooted in tenderness, healing, and the quiet revolution of choosing peace over chaos.
Her characters don't fall in love because they're broken - they love while becoming whole.
With a signature slow-burn softness, Mercy explores emotional maturity, internal rebirth, and intimacy that feels like exhale. Her work celebrates women who save themselves, and partners who become a soft place to land - not a cure, but a companion.
When she's not writing, she's drinking warm tea, observing the language of ordinary life, and collecting moments that feel like stories waiting to breathe.
It was just one night. One room.
No promises.
No confessions.
Just two people- who should've walked away.
But something about the way they looked at each other...
The way silence held more meaning than words ever could...
Made that night less of a mistake
and more of a memory neither body could forget.
Now, two years later, they're back.
In the same city.
Under different names.
Carrying the same ache.
She has someone new.
He almost moved on.
But love doesn't always announce itself-
sometimes it just lingers.
What happens when:
- a closed room remembers what the world forced them to forget?
- bodies touch again, but hearts hesitate harder?
- one mug, one bed, one white shirt brings everything rushing back?
"Unfinished things don't die. They wait.
In bedrooms like this - with people like us."
🌙 A poetic, slow-burn Hinglish story.
Of what was never said,
what was never supposed to happen,
and what still might - if they dare.
Read if you like:
✨ Emotionally mature tension
✨ Silent glances louder than love letters
✨ Bedroom intimacy with poetic restraint
✨ Chapters that feel like old voice notes you never deleted
📌 New Chapters Every day
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💬 Comment "I've been there" if you've ever left a room and still felt touched