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❝Golden on the surface, hollow underneath.❞
gilded verb cover thinly with gold.
˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ
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𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . . chapter eight
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⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙
" the gilded age"
︑︒⚬∙︓·⠄
"For the record," I say, breaking the silence that's been hanging in the air between us like a thick fog, "I don't believe that Jeremy is cheating on me."
The trees are still green, an unnatural hue for November, like they're holding onto some stubborn part of summer. The world around us seems to be pretending it isn't almost winter.
Daniel's walking beside me, and for a moment, it feels like everything is too quiet. The sound of our footsteps is muffled, lost in the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of traffic. My words hang in the air, like I've just disrupted a peaceful moment by pointing out the elephant in the room.
He's holding his bike, and I'm honestly surprised he doesn't hop on it like he's been waiting to do, muttering some offhand comment about meeting me at the apartment.
But no, here he is, just walking beside me, his grip tight on the handlebars. Something about him's different today. It's like he's wearing some kind of invisible armor—cool, distant. I can't pinpoint it, but I can feel the shift.
He looks down at his feet, his shoulders slightly hunched, and then glances at me, as though he's considering something but deciding against it. I catch his eyes, our gazes locking for half a second before he looks away, like he's just been caught in a moment he wasn't ready for.
"If you say so," he says, his voice flat, almost too casual.
I frown at him, my eyebrows knitting together. Was that necessary? Really?
"I said it, didn't I?" I replied, my tone almost challenging now, like I'm daring him to argue.
The tension between us feels like a live wire, crackling and sparking as I stare at him, trying to figure out his next move. Our eyes meet again, his lingering longer than expected, but it's me who breaks the contact this time.
