She moved around the room slowly, fingers brushing the silky curtains, eyes wide with wonder. I stayed by the door, watching her reaction like a stranger watching someone else's life.
"This is… unreal," she whispered, more to herself than to me.
she takes blanket and moved towards the couch and covered her body with blanket.. I'm on the bed with lot of rose petals under me..
Candle lights flickered gently in the room, casting warm glows on the walls. But inside me, it was anything but warm. My thoughts were wandering, untamed.
I never thought I'd end up like this—married to a stranger, a girl who now sleeps curled up on the couch in the same room, under the same roof, yet feels worlds away from me.
Needing air, or maybe just space from my own thoughts, I grabbed my jacket and stepped into the cool night. The streets were quiet. I walked aimlessly until I found a small bar tucked into the corner of the alley.
I walked in, sat at the counter, and ordered a drink. Then another.
I drank not to enjoy—but to forget.
Forget everything. Everyone.
Everyone who never really cared how I felt.
Especially him—my father.
To the world, he was powerful, wealthy, influential. But to me, he was just a man who controlled every step of my life. A man who never once asked what I wanted.
As time passed, the room started spinning. The alcohol numbed my mind, but now even my legs felt too weak to carry me.
I left the bar, swaying slightly as I walked. I tried calling for a cab, but my phone battery had died. No cars. No ride.
Just as I leaned against a lamppost, trying to steady myself, I heard footsteps.
Three men approached—rough-looking, eyes scanning me like predators sizing up prey.
One of them snickered. "He looks loaded."
Before I could react, one of them shoved me back against the wall while the others began patting my pockets.
"Hey—get off," I muttered, trying to push them away, but my arms felt like lead. I swung once—missed. My balance faltered, and I collapsed to one knee.
They laughed.
"Rich boys shouldn't drink alone," one said, pulling out my wallet.
"Let's see what we got here…"
A hard punch landed across my jaw, and I hit the ground. My vision spun. Blood dripped from my lip. My fists clenched, but my body didn't respond. I could barely lift myself.
"Let's teach him not to flash his money around," one of them growled, raising a foot to kick me again.
Then I heard it.
"Leave him, you bastards!"
The voice was sharp. Fierce. Familiar.
I blinked—and there she was.
Ember.
She stormed in like fire on legs. No hesitation. She threw something—her bag maybe—right at one of their faces. "Touch him again, and I swear I'll call every damn cop on this island!"
They froze, startled.
"She's crazy," one muttered.
Everything went blank after that.
When I opened my eyes, the light stung. My head pounded like a drum, and my throat felt like sandpaper. I blinked against the dull ache… and saw her.
Ember.
She was sitting beside the couch, fast asleep in an upright position, her head tilted at an uncomfortable angle. Her arms were folded tightly around herself like she hadn't moved all night.
The second I shifted, her eyes snapped open—like she'd been waiting for me to wake.
She rushed toward me, panic and anger flashing in her gaze.
"You know, Ethan," she said, voice trembling, "if I hadn't brought you home in one piece… they would've blamed me for everything."
I opened my mouth to respond, but the lump in my throat stopped me.
"I have no one," she continued, her eyes glistening. "No powerful father, no connections. I'm just some girl they threw into your life and expected to survive."
She took a shaky breath and moved even closer, standing right in front of me now. "But you—Ethan Hart—the golden boy. Even drunk, even lost, the world still bends for you.
Got it! Here's the corrected version with Ember saying the "God's sake" line, written in Ethan's POV:
She held out the pills and a glass of water. "Drink this," she said firmly.
I stared at the medicine, my head still pounding.
"For God's sake, no poison or drug, right?" she added with a sarcastic edge, narrowing her eyes at me.
A small smile tugged at my lips. Her attitude hadn't changed—still fiery, still bold. Somehow, I found it oddly comforting.
"Feel better," she said softly, standing by the couch.
Then her tone shifted. Serious. Quiet. "Listen, Ethan…"
I looked up at her. Her eyes held something raw—honest.
"I'm on my way out after one year. I promise. I don't want your money, your fame, or your name. I never did. I'm only here because I have no choice."
Her voice trembled just slightly, but she didn't look away.
"You earned everything with your own hard work. Don't throw it away like this. I know how painful it is to lose something you fought for… I've lived that pain."
She took a small step closer.
"So please… don't end up beaten on the streets again. You're better than that."