Chapter 1
As the first chill of winter swept through Riverside, the city felt it keenly, even in early November. Yet the cold air did nothing to dampen the vibrant nightlife. The downtown streets, ablaze with lights and awash in neon, teemed with people flowing in and out of the various hotspots. Among these, The Bounty Tavern stood out as a favored haunt for the city's youths, a place where freedom mingled with music and laughter until the early hours. Rowan Blackwood was a regular at The Bounty Tavern, slipping into its lively atmosphere almost every weekend. It was her escape—a time to unwind with a drink, absorb the music, and temporarily forget her realities. However, she was never one to steal the spotlight; she preferred to rest on the periphery, nursing her drink and observing instead of joining the fray. But one night, as she settled into her usual seat at the bar, everything shifted. “Did you hear about Elena Brook?” a nearby patron exclaimed, drawing Rowan's attention. The name hit her like a cold wave. Memories of a girl who once shone like the moon surfaced in her mind—a girl she had long since tried to forget but still thought of in quiet moments. The name kept circling in her head, and soon she learned that Elena was thriving in Capital City, happily married, with a picture-perfect life. Rowan felt a genuine pang of happiness for her, even if it was laced with nostalgia and a hint of regret. Later that evening, while she watched the scene unravel before her, a figure emerged from the crowd and halted her breath. It was Elena—every bit as stunning as she remembered—but a world away from the innocent girl of their youth. Now, she was dressed provocatively, flashing coy smiles as she served drinks at the bar. Rowan almost couldn't reconcile this version of Elena with her memories. Whispers surrounded Elena, confounding her situation; rumors swirled about a betrayal in her marriage, suggesting she fled back to Riverside to escape her troubles. Rowan’s heart softened seeing her once glowing moonlight now dim and disheveled. Old emotions stirred, and against her better judgment, she reached out to help. When Elena drunkenly collapsed into Rowan's arms, the temptation to delve into old feelings emerged. “Do you need money?” Rowan asked softly. Elena, with a sly smile on her lips, replied, “You could always consider... taking care of me.” “I remember when...” Rowan started, but shook her head, cutting herself short. “I’ve moved on.” A flicker of sorrow crossed Elena's face, and silence enveloped them. Not long after, Rowan was swept away by friends to explore some shops. But just then, she received a text—a panicked message from Elena claiming she was unwell. The urgency pulled her back, and she found herself standing in the doorway of Elena’s cramped apartment. The place screamed neglect—dim lighting and the remnants of sickness lingered in the air. Feverish and struggling, Elena had avoided hospitals for years, opting instead for the most affordable medications. Rowan felt tears prick her eyes, her heart pangs for the girl she had known. In a burst of compassion, she offered Elena a job as her assistant. Living and working together brought them closer once more, learning about each other’s lives, sharing moments of vulnerability. Rowan found herself inexplicably drawn to Elena, who had begun to dissolve the layers of emotional armor she’d built over the years. But just as their connection deepened, secrets unraveled. One day, Rowan discovered that Elena was not the struggling soul she had envisioned; she was a renowned artist, successful and wealthy—a fact she had cleverly concealed. The revelation was a bucket of ice-cold water to Rowan’s heart. Feeling deceived and foolishly entranced, she confronted Elena. With tears in her eyes, Elena pressed Rowan against the wall, gripping her wrist tightly. “I was wrong, Rowan…” she confessed, her voice trembling yet laced with a possessive longing. Elena needed Rowan, and while the sickness she spoke of was tangible, it had layers of emotional depth. “You can’t let go,” she pleaded, her gaze heavy with unspoken desire. In that moment, the stakes of their reunion shifted dramatically. What began as a chance encounter ignited deeper fires, weaving their histories—a mix of love, loss, and resentful longing—into an intricate tapestry neither could ignore.
Chapter 2
The singer was belting out a heart-wrenching ballad as Rowan Blackwood, as always, ordered a drink and settled into her booth, quiet and withdrawn. Even amidst the lively game taking place around her, she felt a profound sense of disconnection from the world. Lost in thought, she was jolted by Lucy Fairweather's excited nudge. “Rowan, look!” Lucy exclaimed, her eyes wide with anticipation. Rowan blinked, her almond-shaped eyes narrowing with irritation at Lucy's overenthusiasm, thinking it was just another attempt to point out some model or good-looking stranger. She furrowed her brows but followed Lucy's line of sight nonetheless. Under the dim blue lights and amidst the bustling crowd, her gaze landed on the profile of a woman. Rowan's eyesight sharpened as the woman's visage came into focus in the low light. She froze. It was as if time had stopped, and for two heartbeats, memories that Rowan had long buried began to surface. Lucy Fairweather watched Rowan's expression with keen interest, her eyes widening with surprise and a hint of gossip-hungry anticipation. “Is that Elena Brook? What is she doing here? When did she come back?” “Rowan, has she reached out to you at all?” No. Rowan shook her head in response. She hadn’t spoken to Elena Brook in seven years. It was hard to pinpoint her feelings; she hadn’t expected to run into an old acquaintance in this place. Perhaps it was just someone who resembled Elena Brook. After all, the woman before her looked completely foreign. The Elena Brook in her memory was a picture of innocence and pride, always in a crisp white school uniform, sporting a trendy backpack, and her hair tied in a neat ponytail. She was clean-cut, willowy, and often graced with a sweet smile and dimples that dazzled everyone around her. Elena had been a beautiful sight during their time at Riverside Academy—many had harbored secret crushes on her,. including a younger Rowan Blackwood. But this Elena looked nothing like that radiant high school girl. Instead, she was clad in a daring black dress that clung to her curves and exuded confidence, flaunting heavy makeup that called attention to her features, mingling among the crowd, laughing and engaging with a group of men. Every movement of hers felt at odds with the Elena Rowan remembered. Once Rowan confirmed it was indeed her, she was merely shocked and then puzzled. Two years ago, Rowan had heard from friends that Elena had married a successful man in Capital City, someone involved in finance. They appeared to be a match made in heaven, living a blissful married life. How could she possibly be back in Riverside now, working in a bar like The Bounty Tavern? Rowan’s mind was racing with questions, which mirrored those of her nearby friends. “Why is Elena here? With all those guys surrounding her, wouldn’t her husband be angry?” One friend suddenly remembered something and lowered his voice as if sharing a secret. “I heard she went bankrupt. The cost of living in Capital City is insane; maybe she had to come back here with her husband. Poor guy must be rich,” he mused.
Chapter 3
"Wow. I can't believe what happened to Elena Brook..." "How could this be? She was so accomplished; I thought she would be the one to do the best out of all of us." The group sitting at the table were mostly high school classmates of Rowan Blackwood and Elena Brook, all of whom were aware of Elena's troubles through the whispers of their shared past. It was hard to fathom how the once-shining Elena Brook had now hit rock bottom, reduced to working at The Bounty Tavern just to pay off her debts. "Damn, looks like she's had more than enough to drink. Just look at those guys staring at her like they're about to pounce on a juicy steak..." "Do you think something might happen to her?" Lucy Fairweather stole a glance at Rowan Blackwood’s face, a mix of concern and uncertainty. Elena was indeed heavily intoxicated; her state of inebriation was palpable even from a distance. A beautiful woman inebriated—the men surrounding her were anything but respectful. A blonde guy with a buzz cut had his eyes glued on her and reached out to touch her, only to have her swat his hand away. She felt offended yet restrained; instead of reprimanding him, she managed a half-hearted laugh to diffuse the tension. But Gryffin Gold was clearly not going to let her off that easily. At The Bounty Tavern, having all eyes on a woman was dangerously precarious. Nobody would bat an eye if trouble arose. Rowan's group exchanged anxious glances, carefully observing Rowan Blackwood's expression. They all were acutely aware of the history between Rowan and Elena, weighing the idea of stepping in to rescue Elena against the risk of overshadowing Rowan’s own potential intervention. If they stole her thunder, they would be unforgivable. After a moment, Gryffin Gold downed a sizeable glass of liquor and then pulled out a stack of cash—wads of bills that he shoved into Elena’s hands, shouting something while gripping her wrist, trying to drag her away. Lucy Fairweather quickly looked from him to Rowan. "Amien, you..." Before she could finish, Rowan Blackwood had set her drink down and stood up, her tall, graceful figure striding confidently towards Elena. As the money slipped from Gryffin’s hands and fluttered to the floor, Elena struggled under the weight of her intoxication, her body feeling heavy and unwieldy as she attempted to break free. She muttered insults at Gryffin but couldn’t muster the strength to raise her voice effectively. Suddenly, her flailing hand was caught by another—a warm grip that contrasted sharply with the situation. “Let her go.” A cold, commanding female voice rang through the air. Elena recognized that voice instantly, causing a shiver to run down her spine. She turned to see... Rowan Blackwood, with her almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones, exuded an aura of elegance and power. At 5'9", with her heels, she stood taller than the 6'0" Gryffin Gold and her presence was undeniable. Her expression was calm and collected, effortlessly compelling Gryffin to release his hold. He fumed with anger, but with the owners of The Bounty Tavern being old acquaintances of Rowan’s, he soon retreated, flanked by two burly bouncers who swiftly intervened. Elena leaned wearily against Rowan, catching her breath before pulling back slightly, looking up at her. “Amien... is that really you?” The long-lost familiarity of the name felt foreign to Rowan, yet she responded gently, “I’m Rowan Blackwood.” Elena's drunken haze only amplified her vulnerability, with uncertainty glimmering in her teary eyes. She desperately needed reassurance, perhaps just to remind herself that not everyone was out to harm her. “Amien, it really is you...” With those words, Elena’s eyes grew even wetter, the last remnants of her wariness and resolve melting away into a fragile demeanor that begged protection.
Chapter 4
Rowan Blackwood had never expected to see Elena Brook again under such circumstances, with such an intense gaze between them. She turned her eyes away and said, “Let’s step outside. I’ll drive you home.” With a few quick goodbyes to her friends, Rowan signaled her intention to leave, and they all nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it’s just me and Mian Mian heading back…” Elena’s voice was captivating—deepened by the years and enhanced by the alcohol coursing through her. It was as soothing as a clear stream, but with an alluring richness that seemed almost sticky now. Elena leaned into Rowan, clinging to her waist, completely depending on her as if the embrace were the most natural thing in the world. It was a moment that spoke of yearning, one that had been long awaited since their last encounter. Rowan found it peculiar. After seven years apart, they should be feeling awkward yet here was Elena, so openly affectionate. Had she ever known Elena to be this way…? She had never witnessed Elena inebriated before, and quickly shrugged off any misgivings. It was pointless to hold drunk individuals to their rational standards, especially not now. Since drinking made someone unable to drive, Rowan ordered a ride share, and they settled into the back seat together. Elena continued to lean against Rowan, tightly wrapped around her, showing a fragility that made Rowan’s heart ache. She tried to gently nudge Elena away to sit properly, but the moment she did, Elena repositioned herself like a liquid seeking its vessel, clinging even tighter. “Mian Mian…” Elena was so close, the warmth of her breath brushed against Rowan’s skin, making her feel flushed. It was an intimacy that seemed excessive, yet Rowan felt powerless to change that for someone so clearly intoxicated. “Where do you live? Just give me an address, and I’ll take you home.” “Um…” Elena mumbled something about Parrot Alley, a narrow road that felt more like a rundown alley in the heart of the city. Parrot Alley? Rowan couldn’t reconcile that place with the memories she had of Elena. In her mind, she pictured the Elena Brook of seven years ago—proud, polished, and poised. Back then, Elena had everything: excellent grades, admiration from teachers, and countless friends who looked up to her. She had an air of sophistication and independence; her name was frequently displayed on the school’s honor roll, and she radiated clarity and kindness. Rowan was certain that the Elena from seven years ago would have never stooped to the kind of existence that involved seeking solace in the arms of a stranger, let alone behaving so inappropriately after a night of drinking. As these thoughts drifted through Rowan’s mind, she couldn’t help but steal another glance at Elena. Her eyes were closed, her brow slightly furrowed, letting out soft, frustrated whimpers that tugged at Rowan’s heartstrings. If anything, Elena appeared even more captivating now than at eighteen—her once fresh and youthful exuberance had matured into something richer, something sophisticated. She resembled a ripe peach, succulent and ready to burst. Yet, as lovely as she was, it was evident that her dress was cheap, and even her purse looked like an off-brand accessory.
Chapter 5
As Rowan Blackwood reflected on the past while considering the present, she couldn't shake the feeling of surprise. The contrast between then and now was stark. Unable to contain her curiosity, she ventured, "So you're really strapped for cash?" At her question, Elena Brook slowly opened her eyes, her gaze hazy. Instead of answering, she shot back with a playful inquiry, "What about you? Are you considering becoming my sugar momma?" Rowan was taken aback; she clearly hadn't anticipated such a response from Elena. The air tensed for a moment, then Elena added in a lighter tone, "I remember... back in the day..." Rowan knew exactly where this was heading. Everyone knew about her unrequited feelings for Elena; of course, Elena knew it too. Rowan found it laughable that in Elena’s eyes, despite the years and her new life as a married woman, Rowan still seemed unable to let go. She snorted softly before interrupting Elena, "What are you talking about, Elena?" Elena fell silent. "Just because I helped you out tonight and drove you home doesn’t mean I'm still hung up on you. Don’t get it twisted; I’d help any random girl in your position." Elena was at a loss for words. Rowan added, "I've moved past the things I couldn't understand when we were kids." Bringing up childhood feelings made everything feel lighter. It wasn’t out of fear of re-opening old wounds; she simply didn’t want Elena to misunderstand. Such misconceptions could affect them both, and Rowan wanted to avoid that. Rowan diverted her gaze, adopting a haughty posture. "If you're feeling sick, you can just close your eyes. We're almost to your place. If you need to throw up, just let me know. Don’t dirty my car." Deep within Elena’s eyes, a flicker of unrecognized expectation and nervousness dulled at Rowan's words. Her gaze dropped as she bit her lip, fingers clutching the fabric of Rowan’s shirt. After letting it stew for a moment, she buried her face into the crook of Rowan’s neck—an almost pitiful gesture, as if she were about to weep over Rowan’s admission that she had moved on. In the end, Rowan pushed her away. **Chapter Two: Innocence** It was a bit difficult to process. By eleven o'clock, Rowan's car pulled into Cloudview Manor, Riverside's priciest neighborhood. Upon entering, she hung her bag on the rack by the door, slipped off her heels, and slid into a pair of comfy slippers as she walked inside. After taking out her earrings and washing away her makeup, she washed her hands and found her pajamas before heading to the Bathhouse for a shower. Fresh from the warmth of the water, she poured herself a glass of milk and settled on the sofa, sipping while gazing out at the river view, lost in thought. Elena Brook—a name that felt both familiar and strange. It was a bittersweet realization. Just half an hour earlier, she had gotten Elena, who was drunkenly swaying, safely back to a small house she had built herself. The dim, narrow corridor reeked of mustiness and was uncomfortably damp. Once she got Elena to the door, she didn’t stick around, not wanting to face any awkwardness should there be someone inside. After seven years without contact, being this accommodating felt like enough; anything more would cross a line. As for whether Elena would feel uncomfortable or sleep directly on the floor from drunkenness? That was a worry from seven years ago. Back then, she had indeed liked Elena—liked her to the point that she could overthink one of Elena's words for sleepless nights.
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