(07
@
The moment my best friend slid into the passenger seat, she couldn’t wait to spill the hottest tea.
“Hey, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Laurel Gibbs your cousin?”
I kept my eyes on the road but gave her a small nod.
“Yep. What’s with her?” I asked nonchalantly
“Word is, after she divorced that scumbag Jordan, she lost it. Completely unhinged. They even locked her up in a
psychiatric hospital!”
She leaned closer to give me the length details. Apparently, Laurel didn’t know about my fake death at first. She kept sending nasty messages to my phone to provoke me. Coincidentally, at that time, my phone was in Brian’s hands. Upon discovering Laurel’s manipulation, he shared the chat history with Jordan and even printed out a list of all the gifts he had given Laurel over the years, which he then distributed all over town. The scandal quickly dominated the national trending charts for seven days.
I couldn’t help but smile faintly
“Sounds dramatic.”
“What do mean dramatic? It’s serious. Seriously comedic,” She burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand like it was a guilty pleasure.
Then, her tone shifted, teasing. “And I heard that Brian… Without you managing his assets, his wealth plummeted. People are saying the only reason he became a tycoon was because of you. They’re calling you his lucky charm!”
I chuckled softly, brushing it off. “Just silly talk.”
But she wasn’t done. Her expression turned serious as she leaned in closer.
“Do you know that Brian is trying to marry your corpse?” My foot slammed on the brakes and I whipped my head toward her in shock.
“What?!”
“Yeah, you heard me. He tried to marry your corpse. Isn’t that insane?”
She gave me a wide–eyed look, completely unbothered by my reaction.
“Wait, wait, hold on,” I said, my voice rising in disbelief. “Are you serious right now? Brian tried to marry me after I -after I faked my death?”
“Uh–huh. Man’s a certified lunatic. When you loved him, he was obsessed with Laurel. Now that you’ve left him, he’s going insane, even wants to marry a dead body!”
I stared at her, utterly dumbfounded, “So… did it actually happen?”
She shook her head, smirking.
Relief washed over me. That was so absurd, there’s no way Brian’s parents would ever agree to that. But then my friend dropped a bombshell.
“His parents wouldn’t let him, so he’s out of his house and took your family’s name. I bet you didn’t see that coming.”
I froze, instinctively asking, “Why?”
My friend grinned mischievously. “Brian tried to turn the engagement party into a wedding for your… uh, corpse, his parents were the first to oppose it. They told him if he insisted, he’d have to leave the family.”
“And?” I asked, holding my breath. She grinned wickedly.
“He agreed! Not only that, he said he’d marry you posthumously as a live–in son–in–law. He even declared, ‘In life, I’m her man. In death, I’ll be her ghost!“”
I blinked, momentarily speechless. Brian, who had always been so proud and self–assured, would stoop so low
C
Love Like an Abyss
for me? It sounded like he truly loved me.
But the sad truth was, I didn’t love him anymore.
With a faint smile tugging at my lips, I simply said, “Whatever it is it’s over and let the past stay in the past.”
My best friend nodded, grinning. “Exactly. And you, my friend, deserves so much better!”
She was right. I did deserve better.
As we pulled up to the entrance of my small studio, a tall man with jet–black hair and piercing green eyes approached us.
“Let me help you with the bags,” he offered in a deep, smooth voice.
“Thanks,” I replied, flashing him a smile.
My best friend grabbed my arm, her curiosity bubbling over. “Who’s this 6’3” dreamboat?”
“Take a guess,” I teased, enjoying her reaction.
She huffed, swatting me playfully. “Oh, come on. Spill!”
“His name’s Alastair. The locals call him Ali. He’s a doctor and his grandmother was from the State.”
Her eyes darted between me and Alastair, a mischievous glint in them. “Are you two…?”
“No!” I cut her off quickly, shaking my head. “It’s not like that.”
Meeting Alastair had been pure coincidence. When I first arrived in Dubai, I’d been rushing around to get my studio registered. On one of those hectic days, I rear–ended his car. Panicked, I blurted out in Arabic, asking if he was all right.
It wasn’t until I saw his striking green eyes that I realized he wasn’t local. I quickly followed up with, “I mean, uh, are you all right?”
To my surprise, he replied in fluent English, his brows furrowed as he rubbed his temple. “I’m fine.”
“You speak English?” I exclaimed, delighted.
And that’s how we met.
