The Slap That End 18 Years novel Chapter 6

**Inside the Fading Emerald Shadows: Quiet Storms**
by Livia T. Rynn

The evening air was thick with tension as I made my way to the parking lot after a long day at work. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving a dusky glow that felt almost ominous. Just as I reached my car, I felt a presence behind me. It was Joseph. He had a way of appearing when I least expected it, and tonight was no different.

He stood there, his silhouette framed by the waning light, but it was the scent that struck me first—the unmistakable fragrance of Yvonne’s perfume. It clung to him like a second skin, mingling with the faint aroma of desperation that wafted off his body. His expression, however, was a jumbled mess of emotions that I couldn’t quite decipher.

“Lucille,” he began, his voice gravelly, as if he had been shouting for hours, “let’s get back together.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and unwelcome. A cold laugh escaped my lips, surprising even myself. “You must be joking,” I shot back, my tone laced with disbelief. The audacity of his request ignited something fierce within me.

In an instant, his hand clamped around my wrist, a grip so tight it felt like a vice, radiating heat that burned against my skin. I could feel the pulse of my heart quicken, thrumming in response to the intensity of the moment. His breath, ragged and bitter with the remnants of coffee, washed over my face, but it was his eyes that held me captive—wild and desperate, like a cornered animal seeking escape.

“Lucy,” he said, a softness creeping into his voice, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he struggled for the right words, “I was wrong. I only dated Yvonne to make you jealous. Let’s just go back to how things were. Just say yes, and I’ll end it with her right now.”

The very thought that Joseph viewed me as nothing more than a fallback option sent a wave of indignation coursing through me. I yanked my hand free from his grasp, my voice steady as I said, “Joseph, listen up. I—”

Before I could articulate my thoughts, the elevator doors dinged open, and out rushed Yvonne. She looked ghostly pale, a stark contrast to the vibrant woman I had often seen. Clutching a medical report in her trembling hands, her eyes widened in horror upon spotting us.

“Joe, the baby… Our baby is gone…” she cried, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her cheeks.

In that moment, the atmosphere shifted. Joseph’s expression morphed into one of hard resolve as he released me, turning to Yvonne, only to be met with her violent rejection.

“Are you happy now, Lucille?” she sobbed, her anguish palpable as she hurled the miscarriage report at me. The edge of the paper grazed my cheek, a sharp reminder of the pain that was now entwined with my existence.

“This is all your fault for making me work overtime yesterday,” she spat, her voice dripping with venom. “Now Joe’s and my baby is gone… Are you finally satisfied?”

Joseph’s grip returned, this time around my wrist, searing like a brand. The darkness in his gaze was terrifying, as if he were ready to tear me apart. “Why?” he growled, his voice low and menacing. “You did this on purpose.”

“I didn’t. Believe whatever you want,” I shot back, my heart racing.

“Lucille,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion, “when did you become so cruel?”

In a surge of defiance, I slammed my heel into his knee, leaving a scuff mark on his meticulously tailored trousers. “I told you I didn’t do it. Now back off and don’t touch me.”

Just as he winced in pain and lunged for me again, a hand with distinct knuckles intervened, sliding between us with a fluid grace that commanded attention.

“Sir,” a voice rang out, clear and authoritative, “a true gentleman doesn’t force a woman.”

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