and watch how individuals interacted with one another with their wonderful sculptures and paintings. Harrison Stone's fo

d influence, the pressure from his family was growing too much for him to bear. He made a quick decision. He gaz

tray of cleaning materials. Eyes momentarily met his as t

ice low and laced with the same nervous tension

k off. Holding the tray, she stood there uncomfortably. Though unspoken, the distance between them was always there, and the gravity of the circumstance was

s though focusing on the simple task at hand would render her invisible. Harrison cleared

s their palms touched, a strange energy shot between them. It was a jolt, a pull-an unrel

her chest as if it were a shield. Stepping around her and muttering "sorry" with a quick mind and a clipped voice, he moved down the corridor.

shelves that looked to hold a thousand lives of knowledge were never entirely accessible to him. Books had be

s hands. As his eyes swept the pages, the words merged into one. They offered him no comfort. He kept considering

a, rather. As she tentatively entered with a cleaning cloth in hand, her warm, dark eyes met his, revealing something different. It seemed as t

like this. Though she was just a maid and a transient presence in his life, at that exact time she felt more significant than all else. He had grown so used to

quiet attitude was failing. Marissa nodded hesitantly, her gaze anxiously f

icularly given how everything else appeared to be a lie, he didn't want her to leave. His life had fallen apart, and

a neighbouring table. His thoughts were rushing, his voice was softer than he

ge that she got his point. She would prefer to conceal the fact that she had always felt trapped in life and that the boundarie

was raw. Genuine. Harrison's chest became tight. He spoke without having read the book, and his eyes softened as he reached for it again. I never t

his head spun with doubt and an unexplainable need, Harrison's gaze stayed fixed on her. Her si

perfect son. He wanted to be the perfect successor. He was a perfect successor and husband. He paused to place his hands on the armr

obvious to her, and it only increased her suffering. He had been exci

gh, could not. She had It was too e

and clean anything. But the more I tried, the more I realised it was merely a fantasy. Once again, she turned and looked into his eyes. i on

ore than just a life of service had crushed her aspirations. Despite her unattainable hopes, the gap between them seemed more like a canyon of unspoken