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When love find lies

"Love entangled with lies is a perilous dance, a deceptive waltz that lures the heart into a treacherous embrace. In this clandestine affair, every 'I love you' becomes a double-edged dagger, capable of both soothing and inflicting wounds. A dangerous liaison where deceit whispers sweet nothings, and every caress conceals the blade of betrayal. For in the realm of love entwined with lies, the danger lies not only in the unspoken falsehoods but in the erosion of trust, leaving behind a wreckage of shattered hearts and fractured souls."Mystery of two friends fall in love with the same boy Emerson After finding the murder of her best friend Jules that unwind the truth about the murder of her that brings love lies and betray to her life a twisted tale of friendship love lies and betray everything in emerson life is shatter until she find Evan..

Mahnoor_Akhtar_7607 · History
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41 Chs

CHAPTER 10

 EMERSON

An impending shortage of groceries propelled me to embark on a trip to the store. Armed with a crumpled list, I ventured into the shop,determined to replenish my supplies. The essentials—milk, cereal,bread—were joined by a sudden craving for an abundance of chocolates. Lost in my own world, I failed to notice a silent observer trailing my steps. A voice broke through my reverie, revealing a forgotten wallet.

'Excuse me, you just dropped your wallet,' he uttered. Grateful for his timely intervention, I responded with a simple 'thanks.' When he pressed for an introduction, I obliged. 'Emerson,' I replied, met with a warm 'I'm Garry. Nice to meet you.'

Curiosity lingering, he probed further, asking about my residence. A reluctance to divulge such personal information to a stranger prompted me to decline. I left him standing alone, proceeding to the counter. Unexpectedly, he insisted on paying for my groceries, a gesture I initially resisted.

"Why did you do that? You don't need to," I insisted, puzzled by his kindness. His response, "I just want to be your friend," caught me off guard.

This unexpected encounter unfolded into a conversation. Garry complimented my eyes, leaving me momentarily speechless. Learning about my scholarship, he praised my achievements. Attempting to return the money, I found myself owing him a coffee.

"Homemade coffee from your hands," he suggested. Intrigued by the offer, I agreed, and we made our way to his home—a vast space adorned with his paintings and portraits. As I brewed coffee and engaged in conversation, a lingering question about his self-portraits remained unanswered. "Are you a model?" I inquired. His response,"No, you can call me self-obsessed," came with a smile, leaving a curious impression.

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