Update delayed.
Mission compromised.
The author has been… medically assassinated. ☠️
It started with a sore throat. I thought I was stronger. I thought I was Engfa. Turns out, I’m Charlotte post-breakup: emotionally unstable, feverish, and in desperate need of a hug and some antibiotics.
As of now, the next chapter is being held hostage by my white blood cells, who have gone rogue. Liam tried to negotiate—offered them one gummy bear and a juice box. They declined. Even Meena said I look like a walking corpse and suggested I “sleep forever” (???) for aesthetic reasons. Ter offered backup, but got distracted by Davikah’s legs. It’s chaos.
So, my dear readers, while I recover in this dimly lit metaphorical bunker with soup and tissues, the update will be on a short delay. Don’t panic. Don’t cry. Definitely don’t summon the mafia over this (unless it’s to fight the flu).
Engfa says “Get up.” Charlotte says “You need rest.” Liam says “Can I write the chapter instead?”
Honestly, at this point, I might let him.
Thank you for the love, the patience, and for not demanding I post from my deathbed (some of you were close, I felt it).
Will return stronger. With fire. And probably one less functioning lung.