Chapter 1
In the small town of Cedar City, the past has a way of creeping back into one's life when least expected. Seven years ago, Catherine Fairchild knew Leonard Hawthorne as the perfect gentleman—warm, attentive, and the very embodiment of what a young woman dreams of. Today, the dynamic has shifted dramatically; Leonard has become domineering, intent on pursuing Catherine with an intensity that she finds exasperating. As they stand uncomfortably close in the cozy corner of The Cozy Tavern, Catherine rolls her eyes, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “We've already broken up, we slept together, so why can’t you just let me go?” Leonard narrows his eyes, his stance firm. “I can't let you go, Catherine.” Her heart races, the tension between them thick enough to cut through. “Then fine,” she huffs, crossing her arms defiantly. “Let’s just get married. That way, you can legally torment me!” A flicker of surprise crosses Leonard’s face, but his resolve remains unyielding. “If that's what it takes, I'm in.” Catherine feels both a rush of anger and an echo of old feelings she thought she’d buried. This isn't the end she envisioned seven years ago when their love sparkled with innocence. Now, it feels more like a battle—a clash between what she used to want and what he insists on demanding. The conversation drifts to memories, snippets of laughter, and those fleeting moments that ignite nostalgia within her. But she can no longer allow herself to get swept away by dreams of what they once had. She has learned to be self-sufficient, determined to grasp her fate, even as Leonard’s aura of command tugs at her heartstrings. As they argue back and forth, each clash revealing layers of longing and resentment, the atmosphere shifts. Cedar City, with its quaint streets and lively markets, begins to fade into the background as they stand on the brink of a decision that could change everything. This tangled relationship was far from over, and neither was ready to walk away. The tension builds in the air, thrumming with potential as they court a choice between freedom and commitment. They know the road ahead won't be easy, that love can quickly morph into something complex and confusing. But as their eyes lock, a silent promise forms—neither will back down easily, and perhaps, just perhaps, the fire that brought them together could, against all odds, ignite anew.
Chapter 2
**Dreams Without Trace** Catherine Fairchild was jolted awake by her phone ringing, her mind still tangled in the remnants of a springtime dream. The sheets lay in disarray around her, clothes scattered haphazardly, while a warm body hovered above her, exuding an intoxicating heat. “Babe, you’re drunk,” he murmured, his breath hot against her sensitive ear and neck, sending shivers racing down her spine. “Yeah, I know,” Catherine admitted, not loosening her grip on the button of his shirt. The rapid beat of her heart and the heavy breaths she struggled to control revealed her mix of excitement and nervousness. “Don’t, I’m afraid you’ll regret it,” he warned, holding her hand tightly, an attempt to suppress the overwhelming desire threatening to burst forth. “I won’t,” she replied, the certainty in her words landing on his lips as they entwined in a fervent kiss. Her rational thoughts finally crumbled; her dress was torn away, and a rush of cooler air sent a shiver across her chest. The sensation quickly turned to molten warmth as his hands cradled her softness. “Mmm…” Catherine moaned gently, her face flushing from a mix of shyness and pleasure, while electric sensations tingled through her body, clouding her thoughts. His long fingers slid from her waist down to her silky thighs, exploring meticulously, each touch accompanied by the crisp scent of masculine allure that left her mind spinning, forcing her to close her eyes and breathe lightly. Finally, his long-held desire burst forth like a wild stallion. “Catherine Fairchild, I love you,” he whispered fervently, gripping her slender waist and drawing her closer, love blossoming between them. It hurt, but it was a beautiful pain. In that moment, Catherine Fairchild believed that years from now, as she reflected on this day, she would never regret her decision. She thought that having someone who loved her so deeply and whom she loved in return would be enough. But would she really regret it? Catherine let out a self-deprecating smile, furrowing her brow as she inhaled deeply, turning to fetch her bold phone from the bedside. This phone was her personal lifeline—only her family and close friends knew the number, which is why she never powered it down. Adjusting her glasses to read the caller ID, she pressed end and then redialed. “Mom.” “Are you still asleep?” Leonard Hawthorne asked, his voice tinged with concern, seemingly apologetic for disturbing her. Catherine propped herself up on her elbow, resting her head on the pillow as she closed her eyes and cleared her throat. “Um, no, just getting ready to wake up.” “Oh, that’s good…” Leonard sighed in relief, then continued, “Have you been busy? Your dad said it’s been a while since he heard from you…” As soon as he finished, her younger brother, Gwendolyn, piped up from the other end, “When did I say that? It was clearly you who mentioned it’s been ages since she called.” “I miss her; don’t you miss her?” Leonard countered, momentarily forgetting he was speaking with his daughter. Catherine chuckled softly at the sibling banter flowing over the line, feeling the exhaustion of her recent sleepless nights dissipate amidst the noisy yet warm chatter of their family. Massaging her temples, she cleared her throat again to regain Leonard’s attention, finally explaining, “Mom, I’ve been tied up with a project recently, which is why I haven’t called back.” “It’s fine, I understand you’re busy,” Leonard reassured, her heart warming at the gentle, familiar tone of comfort from her mother.
Chapter 3
"Just remember to take care of yourself, sweetheart. Your stomach’s been acting up, so make sure you’re eating on schedule. When you're at home..." Leonard Hawthorne rambled on about wellness tips, while Catherine Fairchild nodded attentively and interjected with the occasional question. The back-and-forth carried on for nearly half an hour until her father chimed in, "Alright, that’s enough. Long-distance charges aren’t cheap." "Do you want to say a few words to your dad?" he prompted. "Sure," Catherine replied. Hawthorne handed her the phone, and she quickly cut to the chase. "Dad, long-distance calls are expensive, and I don’t have much to say except to make sure you’re looking after yourself. And don’t forget to soak your feet at night..." Catherine kept an impassive face as she watched the call timer tick upward, a smile creeping onto her lips. Her father’s opening remarks always seemed contradictory; despite claiming he wouldn't talk much, he ended up lecturing her even more than Leonard did. They went from health advice to everyday life, eventually circling back to the topic of marriage. Just as she anticipated, he said, "Remember, no matter how busy you are with work, don't neglect your personal life." "I know, Dad," she replied with a wry smile before shifting the conversation. "But you didn’t go for your checkup this month, did you?" Her father let out a nervous chuckle, but Catherine wasn’t falling for it. Her tone sharpened, "The doctors said you need to go every six months. You’ve been putting it off for three months now..." “I don’t have any symptoms. I’m fine,” he interrupted her with a heavy sigh. "I understand my body. Going for tests costs thousands, and insurance won’t reimburse us..." "Money isn’t the problem. Last month, I sent Mom ten grand. Is it all gone?" she asked, deceptively casual. Even though he knew she couldn’t see him, Catherine’s father shook his head vigorously. "No, no, we’re saving it." "Saving for what? That's meant for your health checks," she said, dissatisfaction creeping into her voice. Realizing her discontent, he took a breath and spoke slowly, "We want to save some money to help you when it's time for you to buy a house or get married." Before she could respond, he continued, "Your mom's health isn’t great, and I have my issues. All these years, we haven’t been much help to you; we’ve only added to your burdens. Sometimes, I wonder if it would have been better if I had just... you know, not been around. That way you wouldn’t have to worry." Hearing her father’s choked voice hurt Catherine deeply. How could he think that way? But instead of voicing her thoughts, she took a deep breath and said, "If you really don’t want to be a burden, then you need to take care of yourself. I’m counting on you to be around to spoil my kids someday." "Hey, you don’t even have a boyfriend right now, and you're already talking about kids." Mentioning her single status struck another nerve in her father, and she could hear the guilt in his voice. "If it weren’t for…." "Dad," Catherine interrupted, signaling that the conversation should shift gears. Just then, Leonard jumped in from the other side, advising her father not to bring up past regrets. The shift in tone relaxed her as she sighed and put on a lighthearted tone. "Don’t worry, I promise I’ll be married before I turn thirty." "Thirty? I'm not sure if that’s a possibility," he said skeptically. "Come on, if you really want to be a grandfather, I’ll make it happen by twenty-eight!" Catherine teased, sounding less like she was discussing her life’s path and more like a playful negotiation at a flea market. "You’re saying twenty-eight? That’s a deal!" Her father's voice suddenly rose a few decibels, full of enthusiasm.
Chapter 4
Catherine Fairchild could practically hear his excitement over the phone. His cheerful tone was infectious, and she found herself assuring him with a bright, “Sure, I'll be married by 28.” As soon as she hung up, however, she furrowed her brow while gripping her heated phone. It dawned on her—married by 28? That milestone was just over eight months away. How could she possibly pull that off? With a yawn, Catherine tossed the phone aside and dragged herself out of bed. She started tidying up, cleaning her apartment until she finally sank into a chair, relaxing for a moment before remembering her promise to treat her friends to dinner. She quickly dialed Gwendolyn Bright. “Hey, boss! I’m off today. Let’s get James Winslow this afternoon for some shopping and then head for hot pot!” “Great! It’s not every day you, the busiest person I know, have some free time. I’ll call up James Winslow right now. Just a heads-up, if you two decide to leave halfway through dinner again, I’ll toss you both into the pot myself,” Gwendolyn replied teasingly. “Don’t worry, I promise we won’t! My boss gave me the day off,” Catherine assured her. “Five whole days? That’s lucky! You know, you could always quit your job; that lousy manager of yours is under more pressure than a minimum-wage worker. I’ll try to talk some sense into James tonight so she can dump that clingy boyfriend of hers too. We can’t have her skipping out on our outings!” Gwendolyn declared. “Sounds like a plan! If she breaks up with him, I’ll gladly step in. I’m tired of the pressure to get married,” Catherine laughed. “Oh, you’re getting pressure too? What’s up with that? Spill the tea!” Gwendolyn’s laughter rang out, teasing her friend. With a sigh, Catherine replied, “It’s a long story. Let’s talk about it when we meet.” “Sure! I’ll wait for you at Yenshire downstairs,” Gwendolyn confirmed before hanging up. The afternoon was truly made for shopping, and it was evident. Catherine, Gwendolyn, and James spent hours browsing from Yenshire to Setheridge, each of them lugging shopping bags as they exited. That evening, they indulged in dinner at the Eastwind Tavern, enjoying copper pot hot pot. With their bellies full, they strolled arm in arm through the streets lit by the early spring night. The cool breeze flowed through, refreshing them completely, and Catherine tightened her grip around Gwendolyn’s arm, exclaiming, “This is wonderful! I haven’t felt this free in so long.” Gwendolyn chuckled, “What did you expect? You all but crushed your brain to work for the big shots. Now you’re realizing that the bourgeoisie merely exist to exploit the working class, huh? And don’t think I’ve forgotten you were top of your class, either. What did all that political science lesson end up doing for you?” “Totally! Give me good ol’ socialism any day, right? Long live our great democratic leaders. You’re living the dream,” Catherine said playfully, wrapping her free arm over Gwendolyn’s shoulder. Back in college, Gwendolyn had shocked everyone by opting out of high-paying banking opportunities and instead choosing to take a public service exam, which now seemed wise in retrospect. Comparatively, it appeared her more ‘successful’ friends were grinding hard while she thrived. “Why don’t you come over to my place tonight? It’s been ages since we just lounged about and talked,” Gwendolyn proposed, glancing at James, who had been engrossed in texting. “And seriously, no need to rub it in with your love life; there are two single ladies here too!” “I’m not! I’m just letting him know I won’t be home tonight,” James shot back. “That’s a bit better. Now you can be part of our girl talk,” Gwendolyn replied with a smirk, tugging James closer as they continued walking.
Chapter 5
After arriving at Gwendolyn Bright's house, James Winslow went to the kitchen to wash some fruit, then handed a plate of grapes to her. The three of them sprawled on couches and sat across from each other, engaging in small talk that eventually meandered to the topic of Catherine Fairchild’s forced engagement. “They’re probably thrilled, maybe they think you’ve been secretly seeing someone for ages,” James remarked. Catherine sighed, “They are pretty happy about it, so I think I’ll keep quiet for now. If it happens, great, and if it doesn’t, then it doesn’t. They can’t really make me do anything.” “It’s not like it would be hard to find someone to marry, especially with someone like him around,” Gwendolyn teased as she peered at her, subtly gauging her reaction. At this, James sat up straight, nodding emphatically, “If you would just give Samuel a shot, not only before you turn 28, you could have him wrapped around your finger by then.” Catherine frowned at the mention of Samuel. Popping a grape into her mouth, she emphasized, “Guys, I’m telling you again, Samuel and I are just friends.” “Come on, you see him as a friend, but he doesn’t see you as just a sister,” Gwendolyn shot back, giving her a playful kick. Then her tone shifted to one of exasperation, “Catherine, where else are you going to find a guy like Samuel Caldwell? He’s got a stable job, a nice car, and enough cash in the bank. He’s good-looking and comes from a good family, solid social standing — a real catch! And more importantly, he’s been hopelessly devoted to you for years. Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed how much he adores you.” Catherine bit down on the grape’s skin, falling into a contemplative silence. How could she not see it? She wasn’t oblivious. It wasn’t like she couldn’t distinguish between friendship and romantic feelings; the truth was… she just didn’t feel that spark. She loved spending time with Samuel, yes, but she knew that kind of fondness had nothing to do with romance. He was more of a mentor, an older brother figure, and a confidante. There simply was no way she could view him as a boyfriend. Over the years, watching Samuel quietly nurture feelings for her had made her feel guilty and frustrated at her own inability to reciprocate. She’d even tried to set him up with dates, hoping for a clean break, but each time had led to his depressive silences and dismissive reassurances like, “You’re reading too much into it.” His eyes would betray a profound sense of loss and hurt that made Catherine wish she could just remain oblivious to what was happening. But what else could she do? If love could be easily switched off or cast aside, she wouldn’t still be single at this point in her life. Gwendolyn, noticing the turmoil on Catherine's face, responded, “Honestly, Samuel is a fool, and you’re no prize either.” Catherine stared out at the darkness beyond the window, suddenly recalling the strange dream she had that morning and couldn’t help but murmur, “Yeah, we’re both idiots.”
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