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Reach goals easily and get: 💪 Step-by-step workout journey 💪 Habit building system 💪 Meal plan based on your goal 💪 Easy-to-follow recipes 💪 Strong muscles 💪 More confidence, better sleep
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Reach goals easily and get: 💪 Step-by-step workout journey 💪 Habit building system 💪 Meal plan based on your goal 💪 Easy-to-follow recipes 💪 Strong muscles 💪 More confidence, better sleep
I started keeping a list about four months ago. I'd notice something and I'd write it down on a small notepad I kept in my desk drawer. By the third week the list was longer than I wanted to admit. ⠀ Things I used to do without thinking that had become problems. ⠀ I'm Walter. I'm 63. I quit smoking 12 years ago after 33 years of Marlboro Reds. ⠀ The morning ritual is still the same. The wet cough. The wheeze. Same stuff every morning. Same as yesterday. ⠀ But the part nobody had warned me about was the slow disappearance of what my body used to do without me even noticing. ⠀ The list: ⠀ The stairs in my own house. One flight. Fourteen steps. I used to take them two at a time. Now I take them one at a time and I hold the banister halfway up because my chest tightens around step nine. ⠀ The grocery bags from the car to the kitchen. Four bags. Maybe forty feet of driveway and walkway and front hall. I used to bring them all in one trip. Now I bring them in two trips. Three sometimes. I close the front door between trips so my neighbors don't see me standing in the driveway resting. ⠀ The parking lot at the grocery store. The one we've been going to for 22 years. The walk from the car to the entrance. About 90 yards. I used to walk it without thinking. Now I park as close as I can and I take the cart from the corral 30 feet in so I have something to lean on for the rest of the walk. ⠀ The dog. Ranger. A golden retriever I've had for seven years. He used to walk with me through the neighborhood. Forty minutes. Now I take him out for ten minutes and he gets to the end of the leash before I get to the end of the driveway because I can't keep up. ⠀ The laundry basket. From the basement to the bedroom. Two flights up. I used to carry it in one trip. Now I set it on the landing halfway up and I sit on the stairs for a minute before I take it the rest of the way. Linda asked me last spring why I'd been doing laundry from the basement landing. I told her I just liked folding it there. She didn't ask again. ⠀ The phone. I used to be on the phone for an hour at a time. My brother out in Indiana. My old foreman from the union hall. My sister in Florida. Now I can't get past five minutes before my breath catches and I have to pause mid sentence and the person on the other end says "you okay Walter." I tell them yeah I just took a sip of water. I didn't take a sip of water. ⠀ The laugh. The real laugh. The kind that used to come up from somewhere below the diaphragm when something was actually funny. Now when I laugh hard I end up coughing for 30 seconds. Last Thanksgiving my brother in law told a story that broke the table up. Everyone was laughing. I laughed too. Then I coughed for almost a minute and the table got quiet and my niece asked her mother if Uncle Walter was okay. I haven't laughed like that in front of family since. ⠀ The list has 17 items on it now. ⠀ None of them are things I can't physically do. ⠀ They're all things I'd been doing differently than I used to do them. And differently than men my age were supposed to do them. ⠀ I'd been telling myself it was age. ⠀ 63 isn't 30. Of course the stairs are harder. ⠀ But other guys at the union hall, the ones who never smoked or quit decades earlier than I did, take stairs without holding a banister. Carry their grocery bags in one trip. Talk on the phone for an hour without their breath catching. ⠀ The age explanation didn't hold up to the comparison. ⠀ After the Thanksgiving incident I went to my office and I started looking. Not for general lung advice. For something specific. ⠀ I needed to know why twelve years off the cigarettes my body was still operating like there were cigarettes in it. ⠀ I read four medical association timelines. They all said the same thing. ⠀ Within five to seven years your lung function returns to within range of a non smoker. ⠀ I'm twelve years out. My breath catches on the second flight of stairs. ⠀ Around 1am I found a piece written by a man named Mark Reeves. He'd worked for 13 years as a respiratory therapist at a VA hospital. ⠀ He had watched ex smokers come back to his clinic year after year, doing everything their doctor had told them, still living with the same list I had been keeping. ⠀ He explained what every standard timeline misses. ⠀ There's old tar that builds up over decades of smoking. The body doesn't have a natural way to break it down on its own. ⠀ When you quit smoking that buildup stops growing. But it doesn't go away. Year after year it just sits there. ⠀ Underneath that buildup is the body's own cleaning system. Microscopic hairs called cilia that should sweep the airways automatically. In long term smokers those hairs aren't damaged the way you'd think. They're alive. They're buried under what's been left behind. They can't sweep because they can't move. ⠀ The morning ritual was my body trying to do manually what those buried cilia should have been doing on their own. ⠀ And every single item on my list was happening because my lungs were working with what was available underneath everything that had been left behind. ⠀ I hadn't been getting older. Something else had been quietly taking up space year after year. ⠀ Then Reeves wrote the sentence that made me close the laptop. ⠀ Every mullein capsule and NAC pill and supplement I'd been buying for 12 years had been broken down by stomach acid before any of it could reach my bloodstream. The herb was right. The capsule was the wrong way to get it there. ⠀ And even if a capsule had made it through, no single ingredient could break down what was sitting in there. It required five different actions happening at the same time. Five jobs. Not one. The mullein alone was never going to be enough. ⠀ I had a cabinet of bottles above my microwave that had been doing nothing because none of them could reach what was actually causing every item on my list. ⠀ I started doing what Reeves described that next Monday. Five ingredients. Different delivery. The kind that bypasses the stomach completely and goes into the bloodstream directly under the tongue. ⠀ The first week I felt nothing. ⠀ The second week I carried two grocery bags from the car to the kitchen in one trip and I was already at the counter before I noticed. ⠀ The third week I walked Ranger for fifteen minutes instead of ten. He didn't pull as much because we were moving closer to the same pace. ⠀ Last month I took the stairs to my bedroom one at a time but I didn't grab the banister at step nine. I didn't notice until I was already at the top. ⠀ I'm not telling you my list is empty now. There are still items on it. The phone calls still catch me sometimes. The full belly laugh still ends in a cough every once in a while. ⠀ I'm telling you that for twelve years I'd been making a longer and longer list of things I'd been doing differently than I used to do them. The list had been growing because of something I'd been told had already healed. ⠀ It hadn't healed. It had been waiting me out. ⠀ The mullein wasn't the problem. The capsule was. Five was needed. One was tried. ⠀ The same article Mark Reeves wrote is still online. ⠀ If you've been keeping your own version of a list, the list isn't aging. ⠀ It's the thing aging hasn't told you about yet.
Tyler stopped asking me to carry him on my back about eight months ago. He's seven. He's not heavy. I'd been telling him "in a minute, buddy" for almost two years. ⠀ At some point seven year old boys stop asking. ⠀ I noticed at his birthday party three Sundays ago. ⠀ The other kids were running around the yard. Tyler wanted to see something behind the swing set so my son picked him up and put him on his shoulders. ⠀ Tyler laughed. ⠀ He didn't look at me. ⠀ I was 64 years old standing by the grill holding a paper plate watching my son carry my grandson on his back. ⠀ I had carried that son on my back across two state parks. The entire length of the Ohio State Fair when he was four. The boardwalk in Ocean City for half a mile because he'd fallen asleep on the carousel. ⠀ I'd done it without thinking. As background to my life. ⠀ I want to back up because the rest of this doesn't make sense without context. ⠀ I'm Walter. I'm 64. I worked as a journeyman electrician for 39 years and I retired five years ago after my back gave out. I quit smoking when I was 50 after 33 years of Marlboro Reds. ⠀ The morning ritual is still the same. The wet cough. The wheeze. Same stuff. Same as yesterday. ⠀ But the part nobody warned me about was the slow disappearance of what my body used to do without asking. ⠀ I used to walk the property line with my dog Ranger every morning. Half a mile. Now I make it to the back gate and turn around. ⠀ I used to carry both grocery bags from the car to the kitchen in one trip. Now I make two trips. Three sometimes. ⠀ I used to climb the ladder to clean the gutters in October. I haven't been on a ladder in three years. I pay a kid named Brandon $80 to do it. ⠀ I'd been telling myself it was age. ⠀ 64 isn't 30. Of course the ladder is harder. ⠀ But Tyler is seven and he stopped asking. That's not age. That's something else. ⠀ After the birthday party I sat in the driveway in my truck for fifteen minutes before going inside. ⠀ That night I went to my office and I started looking. Not for general lung advice. For something specific. I needed to know why fourteen years off the cigarettes hadn't given me back the body I'd been promised. ⠀ I read four medical association timelines. They all said the same thing. ⠀ Within five to seven years your lung function returns to within range of a non smoker. ⠀ I'm fourteen years out. My mornings don't feel like what those timelines said. ⠀ I found a piece around 1am by a man named Mark Reeves. He'd worked for 13 years as a respiratory therapist at a VA hospital. ⠀ He had watched ex smokers come back to his clinic year after year, doing everything their doctors told them to do, not feeling any better. ⠀ He said what every standard timeline misses is what's actually happening underneath the lung function tests. ⠀ There's old tar that builds up over decades of smoking. The body doesn't have a natural way to break it down on its own. ⠀ When you quit smoking that buildup stops growing. But it doesn't go away. It just sits there. Year after year. ⠀ I had to read that paragraph three times. ⠀ Because if that was true, then everything I'd told myself about "lungs healing over time" was wrong. The buildup was still in there. Fourteen years later. Quietly taking up space inside my chest. ⠀ Reeves kept going. He said underneath that buildup is the body's built in cleaning system. Microscopic hairs called cilia that should sweep the airways automatically. ⠀ In long term smokers those hairs aren't damaged the way you'd think. They're alive. They're buried under what's been left behind on top of them. They can't sweep because they can't move. ⠀ The morning ritual is them trying to do manually, with my whole body's cough reflex, what my own cilia should have been doing on their own without me even noticing. ⠀ And every time I bent down to pick up Tyler or tried to climb a ladder or walked to the back gate, my body was working with what was available underneath everything that had been left behind. ⠀ The body hadn't been "aging" the way I'd been telling myself. ⠀ Something else had been quietly taking the start of every day for a decade. ⠀ Then Reeves wrote something that made me close the laptop. ⠀ He said every mullein capsule and NAC pill and supplement he watched ex smokers take in his clinic had been broken down by stomach acid before any of it could reach where it needed to go. The herb was right. The capsule was the wrong way to get it there. ⠀ And even if a capsule had made it through, no single ingredient could break down what was sitting in there. It required five different actions happening at the same time. Five jobs. Not one. The mullein alone was never going to be enough. ⠀ I had a cabinet above my microwave with eleven bottles in it. ⠀ Three brands of mullein. NAC. Guaifenesin extended release. Two herbal blends. A salt inhaler from a TV channel. ⠀ I could name every one. I had bought them all believing the next one was going to be the one. ⠀ None of them had been doing anything because none of them could reach what was sitting in there. ⠀ I started doing what Reeves described that next Monday. Five ingredients. Different delivery. The kind that bypasses the stomach completely and goes into the bloodstream directly under the tongue. ⠀ The first week I felt nothing. I was prepared for that. ⠀ The second week I walked to the back gate AND back without sitting on the stump halfway home. I didn't notice until I was already in the kitchen. ⠀ The third week I carried both grocery bags in one trip and I was already at the counter before it registered. ⠀ Last Sunday Tyler came over and asked me to push him on the tire swing in the yard. I pushed him for twenty minutes. He kept asking for higher. I kept pushing. ⠀ He didn't ask me to carry him on my back. ⠀ He didn't remember he'd stopped. ⠀ But he kept asking me to push him. And for the first time in a long time, I had more left in me than he could wear out. ⠀ I'm not telling you I'm 30 again. I'm telling you the body that had been quietly retreating for the last decade wasn't just aging. There was something happening that the timeline pamphlets had not told me about. ⠀ There's old buildup inside the airways that has been there for decades and continues to take up space even after you quit smoking. ⠀ The mullein wasn't the problem. The capsule was. Five was needed. One was tried. ⠀ The same article Mark Reeves wrote is still online. ⠀ Tyler is going to ask me to push him on that swing again. And when he does, I want to be the one with energy left at the end of it.
When her seemingly perfect marriage collapses overnight, a guarded 30-year-old ER surgeon, Victoria, gives shelter to a rebellious 20-year-old rock singer, Ian, only to discover that the boy she thought needed saving may be the one capable of teaching her how to love again and start over.
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"Millie wait!" I turned around when hearing someone calling my name, only to see an extremely hot guy, like way hot. Gee. No wonder those glasses were popular right now. He looked smoking hot with them, and I bet he still looked hot when he took the glasses off. And he had muscles, not as many as Leo or Atlas, more like Oliver. Wait! Why did I suddenly think of the other three transfer students? “Don’t you want to know who I am?” His hot breath sprayed on the side of my neck as he leaned forward and whispered into my ear. “Not really. One of the transfer students, I know,” I mumbled as I continued to walk forward, my cheeks slightly red. What was it with my reaction to these transfer students? Why was I so attracted to them? All four of them! ”I’m Milo. It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Millie. Millie and Milo... Sounds like a perfect match,” he continued. I got more flustered but managed to find my voice and made it stern, “Please don’t joke with me. I just ate my lunch and I don’t want to throw up.” Milo chuckled in my ear, making goosebumps rise across my skin. “Well, Mille, I know you’re lying. I can tell from the blush in your cheeks and the goosebumps on your arms-” “And the annoyance in my voice,” I added. He chuckled again. “Atlas was right. You’re feisty. It’s hot.” I opened my mouth wanting to say something when an angry voice boomed from behind. “Stay away from my girl,” James roared. I rolled my eyes. He was the one who dumped me right after taking away my most precious innocence and even the one who caused my miserable life in the past year, as he and my best friend Vanessa spread rumors about me being a boyfriend stealer right after cheating on me! “I heard you already have a girlfriend, or two,” Milo teased in disgust. “Mind your business. Millie is mine,” retorted James, and then he turned to me with a wink. “Millie, I told you I was sorry last week-” “First of all, you did not actually say sorry. You gave me some sort of apology gift, that I did not accept by the way. And then I saw you later that night with Vanessa. Not to mention that Milianda said you’re also dating her,” I interrupted him. Then something dawned on me. “Wait, are you the reason she came after me again today? I got a slap!” I narrowed my eyes at him. “What?” Milo practically shouted. “Someone slapped you?” He asked as he cupped my cheeks and forced my face to his. He scanned my features until his gaze landed on the cut on my bottom lip. His deep blue playful eyes turned sharp. His exaggerated reaction bewildered me. Like the other three transfer students, Milo seemed to pay excessive attention to me although we had just met. But why? Why did these transfer students act like we were childhood friends or something? I swatted his hand from my face and narrowed my eyes at him. “Do not touch me without my consent again," I told him sternly. Milo's playfulness settled back on his face. "One of these days you'll be begging me. And I cannot wait to give my girl what she wants." He said and my jaw dropped. ***** New year, new me. That's the motto I am trying to stick with as I stare at myself in the mirror. It's early in the morning, about 6 a.m. and I am ready for school. I'm dressed in regular jean shorts and a plain baby pink T-shirt. It brings out the tan of my skin and I love it. I haven't worn bright colors in a long time, this year will be different though. I am getting back to my normal self. My long dark blonde hair is pulled back into two french braids, something I learned how to do over the boring summer. I say boring because it's boring as h*ll when you have no friends and have to work all summer. I applied light makeup, a bit of highlighter to my cheek bones, mascara, and a little bit of lip gloss. I did a few poses in the mirror, trying to hype myself up. Let's face it, I look good. Grabbing my backpack, I booked it down the stairs. My dad and little brother are sitting at the table having breakfast. Dad is reading from the newspaper and drinking his coffee. I look just like my dad. Same dirty blonde hair and light green eyes. My annoying little brother looks like a perfect mix of our parents with his dark chestnut-colored hair and the same green eyes. "Good morning honey." Mom sings from the counter in the kitchen. "Good morning Momma." I said to her as I slid into a chair at the bar-top. Mom slid a plate of bacon and eggs to me and I smiled brightly at her. My mom is so sweet. Always taking care of us. Her dark brown hair is tied up in a messy bun on the top of her head. She's still in her pajamas since she doesn't work. Dad makes enough to support us all, being a project engineer. "You excited about your first day of school?" She asked me, her warm brown eyes shining with her smile. I gulped. Mom has no idea about what happened last year. All she knows is that James and I broke up. I had to tell her something about why I was depressed. Thankfully, she didn't press me about it. Mom just told me that she would always be there if I needed to talk. Honestly, I wish I could of. I was too embarrassed to tell anyone. However, I made it through just fine on my own. "Sure am. I have all AP classes this year and I get to work on college applications," I told her. Mom rolled her eyes at me. "Always so much work and no play, just like your father." She teased. "That's not a bad thing dear." Dad said without taking his eyes off of the paper. My mom is an advocate for 'kids should be kids'. She believes I should be sneaking out, breaking curfew, drinking, all that. Even before I became a social pariah, I wasn't into all of that. I liked hanging out with my friends, don't get me wrong, but I was also focused on school. Getting into a good college was a big deal for me. I want to be a marine biologist. My parents can afford to pay for my college, so luckily I don't have to deal with a scholarship, but I do have to worry about getting in. I'd also like to stay close to home. Despite what happened to me over last year, I still wanted to remain close to my family. "I think we should be asking if Caleb is excited." I said as I turned in my chair to look at my little brother, who rolled his eyes. "It's my second year, nothing to be excited about." He grumbled. "But this is the year that you are finally on varsity for the football team. You've been practicing all summer." I said with a pout. Caleb rolled his eyes and turned to look at me. "I am going to be the best player on the varsity team," he said with complete arrogance. I narrowed my eyes at him, but smiled. "Atta boy." I said proudly. Caleb chuckled, and shook his head. Just then there was a loud honk of a car horn outside. My little brother jumped to his feet and grabbed his bag. "That's my ride. See ya later." He said as he left the room. "Why don't you take your sister to school too?" Dad called after him. "You want to come with us, Mil?" Caleb asked. Caleb knew I was going to say no. He has actually been a safe haven for me through all of this. He's the only one who doesn't care about the bullying. I mean, Caleb gets, like, really mad, but he doesn't care about being seen with me. His friends do though, and I know that. So I always decline. Caleb never really cares about anything other than football. He is the only one in the school and this house that knows the truth. Caleb was furious, and he had gotten into a few fights last year over me. It's a good thing he was a big 14-year-old, even bigger now. My little brother was always protecting me and I appreciated it. I very much appreciated that he never let me eat lunch alone either. "No, I'm good. I enjoy walking." I said with a smile. "Thanks though." Caleb nodded. "Kay, I'll see you at lunch then?" He asked. "Yup." I said as I turned around and shoved a piece of bacon in my mouth. After I was done eating breakfast, I tried to help my mom with the dishes, but she refused. I kissed my dad on the top of his head, and hugged my mom before walking out of the door. Slipping my airpods into my ears, I flipped through my music until I found something that I liked. There is a bit of a pep in my step. Today is going to be a good day. Everyone has totally forgotten about me and about last year. Right? I should probably explain what happened to me last year. It wasn't anything massive, but it felt like it to me at the time. My whole life flipped upside down. It was life-changing for me. Vanessa had been my best friend since we were in kindergarten. We were as thick as thieves. Vanessa and I spent every day together. As we got older, our interests changed a bit. We still made time for each other every day though. Between my extra studying and Vanessa's cheerleading, we made it work. We had movie nights and ate lunch together every day, despite her new friends' clear disdain for me. Then, at the beginning of our sophomore year, Vanessa made me go to a party with her. It was my very first party and Vanessa had dressed me and done my makeup. I have to admit that I had never looked better. When we got to the party, Vanessa had ditched me almost immediately to hook up with her latest fling. I had wandered to a secluded area with а cup of water that I was pretending was alcohol. That was when I met James. James had wandered out to get away from the loud noise too. We ended up spending several hours just talking and laughing. Next thing I knew, we were dating. James picked me up every morning in his fancy car. He would walk me to class and hold my hand. It was so nice. I went to all of his football and basketball games. We went on dates, all the normal teenage dating stuff. It was very sweet honestly. I used to think that he was my prince charming. Until the beginning of last year came around. Within the first month, my whole world came crashing down. After attending a party that I did not want to go to, with James, I lost my virginity. James had taken me to a room upstairs and finally, after a year of dating, I let him have my virginity. Something I still regret. It took James only moments to break up with me. Like literally, I was still n8ked in the bed when he dressed and told me it was over. He finally got what he wanted, and no longer needed me. At least that's what he said. At the time, I cried about it a lot. I ran out of the house and all the way home. For a few weeks after that, Vanessa had comforted me. Then, one day, I had come to school and the air had completely changed. People were looking at me and whispering about me, but I had no idea what they were saying. When I had arrived at my locker, Vanessa was there waiting for me with three other cheerleaders. She had made a huge scene for the whole school. Vanessa had admitted to me that she had been sleeping with James for almost the entirety of our relationship. She told everybody how I had stolen him from her in the first place, and that he had wanted to break up with me for months, but that I made it impossible. Apparently, James had broken up with me several times, and every time I had begged him to stay. And he gave in. It was wild for me to hear, considering it was all lies. Vanessa also told me that our friendship was a complete lie. She said that she just felt bad for me, and I was a charity case for her. Then I had stolen her man, and she only stayed my friend to get revenge on me. My world had turned upside down. I was so confused about everything. Honestly, Vanessa pretending to be my friend hurt worse than my breakup. After that, the whole school turned against me. Not that I was a big deal anyway. In fact, I was only ever really noticed after this little incident. Then my life turned into a whole sh.it show. Every day someone wrote on my locker the word 'sl.ut' or 'wh.ore' or whatever else they could come up with. Girls would push me into lockers, tease me, throw trash on me. I even got into a couple of fights. I also found out that James had told everyone that we had sεx. Rumors were flying around. After that, if the girls here weren't picking on me, then the guys were making comments about me. Sleeping with that sleeze ball was the worst thing I had ever done. Next time I sleep with someone, it'll be someone I know can keep their mouth shut. By the end of the year last year, I was wearing nothing but black and hoodies. Anything to hide myself. You would think that over the course of months the bullying would die down, but it never did. The amount of people who bullied me was the only thing that changed. Most of the school had moved on from 'my' little stunt. But, the cheerleaders and the rest of the popular crew never stopped. This year will be different though. II Chapter 2: More Explanation Millie's P.O.V. ******************************************** Honestly, the whole situation was just silly. I didn't do anything in the first place. I was betrayed by my best friend and my boyfriend, the two people I thought loved me more than anyone. Aside from family, of course. Yet, this was my life. Vanessa and James had started dating, they flaunted their relationship everywhere and to everyone. Annoying I know. If I was ever caught in the cafeteria, I was bullied, had food thrown at me or at me, or my lunch stolen. Eventually, I had moved outside under a tree to be by myself. Unfortunately, that didn't stop everyone. It wasn't until Caleb started to eat with me that I would be left alone. Everyone else was too afraid to be my friend. I think that they were afraid of getting bullied along with me. How could I blame them? Caleb started to pick up on the change at school even though we were two grades apart. After one particularly bad day, he cornered me at home, and made me tell him everything. Caleb got into a lot of fights with the other guys after that. It got to a point where I had to have a talk with him before he got expelled. Thankfully, my little brother settled for spending lunch with me. I stopped telling Caleb the details of my bullying, and by the end of the year, things were good. Well, good enough I guess. Caleb was no longer getting into fights, and most days I could avoid the populars. This year will be different though. I hadn't heard a thing from anyone all summer long. Even working at the only movie theater in town, I managed to avoid them all. When one of my bullies saw me they would settle for an eye roll and a snarky comment. I could deal with those. At least they weren't cornering me anymore. So, they must have forgotten about everything then, right? My walk to school wasn't bad at all. I was feeling pretty good, actually. Even when the dull school came into view I was feeling confident. This year I will just stay focused on school. No one even cares about what happened last year. I mean, why would they? Surely they were over it now. I walked through the doors of the school with my schedule in hand. My locker is number 367, and close to all my classes but one. I kept my head down as I rushed to my locker. So far so good. Nobody has even noticed me. Just how I want it to be. I was putting my things in my locker when two girls started walking towards me. My body froze. Then one opened up the locker two down from mine. I breathed out a sigh of relief. They aren't part of the popular crowd that hates me with a burning passion, but I do remember the two of them making comments to me. Pretty sure the blonde one tripped me one time. "Did you hear?" The blonde says to her friend. "Hear what?" Her friend asked. "James and Vanessa broke up." The blonde squealed. "Like for real this time. Not like all the other bullsh.it times." Her friend rolled her eyes and picked at her nails. "Sure they did." She said sarcastically. The blonde huffed. "They really did. Like a month into summer vacation." She whined out. "Do you think it has anything to do with that ex of his?" Her friend asked, and I froze again. "Ya know, that one that used to be friends with Vanessa?" "Oh please." The blonde said with an eye roll. "You heard about how desperate that girl was for James. And he could have anyone, he would never go back to her. First, she's plain, and a total goth. Don't you remember how she started dressing at the end of the year?" The blonde visibly shuddered. Okay rude. I wasn't dressed that badly. "No, he is moving on to better things a.k.a. me." She said proudly. "Oh okay." Her friend snorted. "Like James Melrose would be interested in a nobody like you." Ouch. What a friend. The blonde slammed her locker shut, and turned to her friend. "Jealousy is a very ugly color on you Harp." She stated before stomping away. Unfortunately, because the blonde left, I was caught looking. Her friend 'Harp' and I connected eyes. My face flushed as the girl stared at me with amusement. Her brown eyes trailed down my outfit and back to my eyes. "Glad to see you aren't a goth anymore." She said with a smile. "Thanks." I mumbled as she walked away. As weird as that was, I'm taking this as a win. Only one person noticed me so far, and she wasn't even mean. This year is going to be totally normal. Just me and the library. I have a college essay to write and AP classes to keep up on. I gathered some supplies, and headed to my first class, AP English. The teacher is here sitting behind his desk. I walked to the furthest seat from the door in the first row and sat down. Class starts in ten minutes, but I didn't mind being early. It gives me time to work on what my essay will be about. Shortly after I started to write out topics to choose from, the classroom started to fill. I was hoping that, because all of my classes are AP, that none of the popular kids would be here. So I frowned when Milinda, Vanessa's BFF, walked in. We connected eyes, and she glared at me before taking her seat in the back corner, far from me. Oh no, I hope that's all I get from her. I can take dirty looks and snarky comments. What I don't want, is to be bullied so badly I go back into hiding. I don't want to hide anymore. I don't want to get beat up or trash thrown on me. I just want to be left alone. It's slightly amazing how cruel teenage girls can be. When class was over, I stayed back to talk with the teacher. Mr. Douglas is a nice guy, and I asked him if he would mind reading over my essay when I finished before I turn it in. He was all smiles when he agreed. I get the feeling that most students here aren't as concerned with school as I am. After talking with Mr. Douglas I rushed to my next class, which was AP Biology. My favorite class, the one I am looking forward to the most. The teacher, Mrs. Gibbson is a really nice lady in her mid 40s. She beamed at me as I entered the class. "Good morning Millie, I was looking forward to seeing you today." She greeted me. "Good morning Mrs. Gibbson." I greeted back with my own bright smile. Mrs. Gibbson found out that I wanted to be a marine biologist last year and took me under her wing. I would come in after school, and she would teach me all sorts of things. She told me what colleges had the best programs for the profession I wanted. Mrs. Gibbson even offered to write me a letter of recommendation, and said she would put in a good word for me at the college she and her husband attended. Her husband is a zoologist too. I walked to the farthest seat from the door in the front, and opened my notebook. For the next few minutes, I doodled more notes for my essay and then the bell rang. When I looked up from my notebook, I saw that the class was full. Two seats to every desk, but mine. I was alone. Mrs. Gibbson's eyes looked at my desk. Something resembling pity flickered in her eyes before she shook it off. Even though I never told Mrs. Gibbson about what happened, I think she knew. I mean, any teacher with ears probably knew. She never asked me about it though, so I never told her. We were always preoccupied with better conversations, and that was fine by me. Although, there were times that she told me things always get better, and to keep my head up. The class went by fast, and I was disappointed when the bell rang. Mrs. Gibbson waved goodbye to me as I walked out the door. My next class is AP calculus, the class I am most nervous about. I was never bad at math, but it was not my favorite subject. This class I played it the same as my first two. Front far corner seat, notebook out ignoring everybody, and I kept my head down. The rest of the school day went the same. When the lunch bell rang, I found my little brother waiting by my locker. I ran up to him with a smile on my face. "Wait, how did you know this was my locker?" I asked when I got to him. Caleb gave me a look that told me I wasn't going to like what he was going to say. "I have the janitor coming to clean it off. The principal said he would have it gone by the time lunch is over." Caleb told me. "Move." I ordered. "Why don't you just take your stuff to lunch with us? I can carry it if you want." Caleb suggested. I stomped my foot like a child, and glared at my over-protective little brother. He towers over my small 5'3 frame, which is completely unfair. He's my little brother. Caleb crossed his arms like he was prepared to argue with me. suks for him because so am I. After seeing that I wasn't backing down, Caleb sighed heavily, and moved to the side. A small gasp left my lips as I took in the white writing across the navy blue locker. It reads 'Fat Pig'. Tears filled my eyes. It's only the first day. No one even said anything to me. Shaking my head, I blinked the tears back before they could fall. Then I opened my locker, shoved my belongings inside, and turned to my brother with a smile. "Ready for lunch?" I asked, and then started walking away before he could answer. "It's okay if you want to skip, and go to the library or something," Caleb offered. We used to do that when things got too hard. I would run away, and my little brother would come with me. But this year is different. I'm done running away, and I am done letting these people bully me into silence. "Nope, that's totally not going to happen." I said. I could see Caleb smile out of the corner of my eye. "This really is a new year, new you, huh?" He teased as he bumped me with his shoulder. That's right. New year. New me. The rest of the day went by smoothly. I'm honestly surprised. I thought for sure after seeing my locker that comments would be made. Yet, it seemed like no one even knew about it. I wonder if that has something to do with Caleb. Did he find out before anyone could see it? My AP classes were smooth as well, but it is only the first day. The only one I had to worry about so far was calculus. I'd give it some time before transferring out of it though. I can do this. All AP classes for me looks good on a college application. I would not give up easily. My second to last hour is a chosen class. Most people pick choir or band, but this school offers an extra course that allows you to help your underclassmen. You can only take it if you are a junior or senior though. I was in it last year, but no one wanted me to help them. It ended up being a silent hour for me to catch up on my studies. I was a little sad about it, but oh well. This year I was determined to be different, and it was already working out for me. I spent the whole class preparing a few freshman girls what to expect for their science class. They thanked me when the bell rang, and I told them I would be here for them anytime they needed. The last hour of school is a silent hour. At least for me. That meant I had the whole hour to do what I wanted. Most seniors have an hour like this, but none of them except a select few have it as their last hour. Probably because they would just leave, and not use it how it is meant to be used. Oh, well, not me. I went straight to the library, and opened my notebook. When the last bell rang, I stayed in the library for a while working on my essay. At about 4:30 I decided that was enough for one day. When I reached my locker there were no more words. The halls were quiet as I slipped my books into the locker, and grabbed my backpack. Sticking my airpods into my ears, I smiled. Today was definitely a good start to a new year. Nothing was going to be thrown at me that I couldn't handle. III Chapter 3: A Gift From An а-hole Millie's P.O.V. ************************************** The next two weeks went by totally smooth. Just like I planned. There was only one more incident with my locker. That time someone wrote 'Happy Birthday Fat Wh.ore', on my birthday. Which is today. It's Friday and my locker was the first thing I saw this morning. I rolled my eyes when I saw it, and pulled out a white eraser sharpie I had bought. I wrote 'Thanks A Ton!' back, and then did not report it. What was the point? Honestly, I was feeling good. Words are words. It was the actions and words from the two people I loved that hurt the most. Since I don't love them anymore, I was feeling less affected. And I have no idea who is even leaving these little love notes for me. After I grabbed my stuff, I headed to my first class, and took the same seat I had since the first day. Mr. Douglas was sitting behind his desk staring down at some papers in front of him. He has grown to be one of my favorite teachers. He's very kind and helpful. "Good morning Millie and happy birthday." Mr. Douglas told me. "Thanks." I said as I beamed at him. "Teachers pet." Mumbled a female voice. Why is she so early for class? Mr. Douglas frowned, but I gave him a reassuring smile. Thankfully, he let it go, and I took my seat. Mr. Douglas said that he had to grab something from the teachers' lounge and would be right back. That was when Milinda decided to change her normal seat, and sit next to me. "Heard it was your birthday today, wh.ore." She said. I ignored her. "Oof, should I have said fat wh.ore?" She asked with a giggle. I turned my head to her. Milinda's platinum blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail that hung straight down her back. Black winged eyeliner adorned her blue eyes. She's in her cheerleading uniform since there is a game tonight. "Was that you that left me that lovely message on my locker?" I asked her sweetly. Milinda seemed taken aback for a moment. After all, I have never given them sass back before. I would always cry or run away. This year I will not be so weak. They want a fight, a fight they'll get. "Lovely huh? Being called fat isn't what I would call lovely." She said. I only shrugged at her, and turned back to my notebook. "So, not sure if you heard, but James and I are dating now." Milinda told me. "Congratulations." I mumbled without looking at her. "Thanks. I just wanted to let you know, so there were no hard feelings between us." She said, sounding bored. I snorted as I continued to write. "Believe me, there are hard feelings between us, Milinda." Then I looked up to meet her blue eyes. "But it has nothing to do with James. I hope you guys are happy together, truly." Then I sat back in my chair. "Although, it does make me question what kind of friend you are." I said as I scrutinized her with my gaze. Milinda's face turned into a sneer. "What the h*ll is that supposed to mean?" She asked. I shrugged. "I doubt that Vanessa is pleased with your new boyfriend," I stated. Milinda rolled her eyes. "Because you didn't do that same thing." She, accused. I didn't, but okay. "And look what happened to me." I said, and then smiled when her face paled. Before Milinda could say anything else, Mr. Douglas was back and started class. Milinda was forced to sit in the seat she moved to for the rest of class. I had zero problem paying attention, but it was clear that the cheerleader was struggling. She had tried to pass me notes several times and every time I tossed them into the trash can that was right in front of me. I would like to say that it didn't satisfy me to make Milinda squirm, but it did. It really, really did. Though I would not keep it up. I'm not a bully like they are. I wouldn't have even said anything had Milinda left me alone. So, when the bell rang and the cheerleader tried to stop and talk to me, I ignored her and rushed to my next class. "Happy birthday Millie!" Mrs. Gibbson practically shouted when I walked through the door. I looked up at two birthday balloons, and a cute little teddy bear sitting on my usual spot. A wide grin spread across my face when I saw it. I walked over to the gifts and snuggled the teddy bear. "Thank you so much, this was very sweet of you." I told Mrs. Gibbson, and gave her a quick hug. "Do you want to pop the balloons before anyone gets here?" She asked. I gave her a strange look. "Why would I want to do that?" I asked. Mrs. Gibbson gave me a small shrug. "I know how cruel teenagers can be. I didn't want anyone teasing you." She said. I gave her a bored look. "You saw my locker this morning, I take it?" I asked her as I sat down on the stool. "I talked to the janitor about removing it and then the principal." She told me. I pulled my book out from my backpack, and set it on my desk. "And how did that go for you?" I asked her. Mrs. Gibbson huffed in annoyance. "Does he even care? When I told him about it, he didn't seem the least bit interested." She told me. I nodded. Principal Melrose is James's grandfather. Not one time did he care about the bullying. I didn't tell my parents or complain directly to him, so he brushed everything off. Caleb calls him useless and I agree. There was really no point in seeking out his help. "He's probably just used to it," I said. "That doesn't make it right Millie." Mrs. Gibbson replied. I looked up from my book to see her angry expression. "Well, one thing it did was make me stronger," I said, and then looked back at my notebook. "I couldn't care less if any of these kids make fun of me for the gifts. It makes me happy that you remembered, and I am thankful for that." I told her with a bright smile. I meant it too. What would they say that they haven't already? Besides, maybe they should just get a life. It's two balloons and a teddy bear, is it really that big of a deal? No, it's not. "It won't hurt my feelings if you want to hide them." She said quietly as the first few students came strolling in and looking in our direction. "No, thank you." I whispered back. Thankfully, Mrs. Gibbson let it go after that. A few kids did make remarks about being a teachers' pet, but I ignored them. Mrs. Gibbson managed to hold her tongue at the other students, and I was thankful. A couple of the students even offered me a polite happy birthday. See, things are already better than last year. I wasn't holding out hope that I would have friends, but at least people were being decent. By lunchtime, my locker was completely forgotten about. By me, anyway. Caleb was still fuming over it. We are sitting outside under the tree that I love, eating our gross cardboard pizza. "Will you stop sulking already?" I whined out in irritation. "It happened to me, and I'm not even as upset as you are." "It doesn't pi.ss you off in the slightest? The sh.it they said about you isn't even true. So what, you gave your virginity to a total a.sshat? And your best friend had betrayed you in the worst way? Wasn't that enough? Can't they leave you alone?" He rambled out in an angry voice. I blinked at him. "Were you purposely trying to bring it up?" I asked him with a shake of my head. "Sorry." He mumbled. "But doesn't it piss you off?" I shrugged as I bit into my greasy pizza. "I think I skipped over being mad. I spent too much time crying over everything last year. I want this year to be different. Even if they keep up their bullsh.it, I want to ignore it. I want to have a good senior year. Well, the best I can have anyway," I said. Caleb smiled at me. "I envy your ability to not care," he said while shaking his head. I smiled brightly. "So tell me, how is football going?" I asked him. "Big game tonight." "Yeah, my first game on varsity," he said with a slightly nervous tone. I patted his leg. "You'll kick a.ss out there. You're too good not to." I said reassuringly. Caleb nodded, and gave me an arrogant smile. " You're right. I am good. Hella good." He said. I laughed. "That's right." I said, amused. "There's this new guy on the team now. It's a bit annoying. I'm not sure that I'll even get to play because of him," Caleb told me. I frowned. "What makes you say that? I didn't even know there was anyone new here." I asked. Caleb shrugged. "He hasn't started yet. They just arrived a couple of days ago. He's going to be starting Monday, but... He's a senior, and apparently really good. I mean... At practice, he's dumb good." Caleb told me. I patted his shoulder. "I think you'll get the chance to play still." I told him. "I hope so." He said. "So, are you going to come out tonight?" "Do you want me to?" I asked. Caleb gave me a shy smile, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Mom and Dad are coming. I would like it if you came to see my first game, but you don't have to. I understand if you don't want to be there." He rushed out. James is the quarterback. And the cheerleaders hate me. My ex-best friend is the captain of the cheer team. I haven't been to a football game since everything happened. But, new year, new me. "Oh, I'm coming." I said confidently. No more hiding for me. ******************************************** The rest of the day wasn't as smooth as my start though. Apparently, James is in my AP history class. I don't think he was there before, but I'm not completely sure. It's not like I seek him out, or that I even look around the classrooms for him. Nobody here was new and nobody was my friend. So, when James sat down next to me, I was a bit shocked. At first, I ignored him, but I could feel his eyes on me. "Happy birthday Millie Bear." He said, and my body went rigid. "Fu.ck off James." I said without looking up from my notebook. "Awhh, is that any way to talk to someone who bought you a present?" He asked. A present? I looked up at James confused. What the h*ll does he mean a present? What's wrong with him? "It's a braclet. I got it as an apology," James said with a hopeful smile. "Oh James," I said sweetly, and his smile grew. "You can take your apology present and shove it up your @ss." I said while keeping the sweetness in my tone. James frowned. "Come on Mil, what do I have to do for you to forgive me?" He asked. I gave James an incredulous look. Forgive him? What does he have to do? The audacity. He hasn't even apologized, and I'm supposed to accept an apology? Is he serious? "Ya know what, James? I forgive you." I said, and then turned back to my notebook. I don't have the time or patience for this. It's better to just ignore him. Besides, I deserve to forgive James. So, he's forgiven. Now we can both move on. "Great! So, I'll pick you up after the game tonight?" James asked. "Mhmm." I hummed. Wait, what? "Wait, no." I said as I looked at James. "Just because I forgave you does not mean I'm going out with you." I told him, almost laughing. "Why not? We were good together, and you know you've always been my good luck charm." He said with a sweet smile. I gagged. Literally. James looked displeased. "Gross. I just ate lunch, so if you could go easy on me, so I don't have to taste it coming back up, that would be great." I said. "Don't be a beach, Millie. I'm trying to be nice." James gritted out. I looked up at him with raised eyebrows. "Ya know who would love you to be nice to them?" I asked, and he just stared at me. "Literally anybody but me. Especially Milinda. I hear you're dating her now." Then I turned back to my notebook. If James was going to say anything else, I wouldn't know because the bell rang, and the teacher came into the classroom. The class seemed to drag on and on. When the bell finally rang, I practically booked it out of there. I could hear James calling after me, but I ignored him. What a fking jerk. IV Chapter 4: Birthdays and Office Visits Millie's P.O.V. **************************************** I sighed a breath of relief when I made it to my next class. What a total fking a.ss hole. I can't believe James thinks I would ever go back to him after what he did to me. And people used to call me delusional. About halfway through my class, while I was helping a freshman boy with his algebra homework, a ding sounded over the PA. "Would Miss Amelia Holmebrooke please come to the principal's office. Thank you." Came a woman's voice. The teacher and I connected eyes, and he nodded for me to go. I gathered my belongings, and apologized to the freshman I was helping. Then I headed to the head office. Once I arrived, the secretary greeted me with a tight smile. Mrs. Oakly is a middle-aged woman who is rail thin, and I am pretty sure she has slept with a lot of the under-aged students here. Someone should open an investigation against her, seriously. Mrs. Oakly's lips are painted red, and she is wearing a tight black pencil skirt with a navy blue blouse. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun. She looks like a s*xy librarian, not a high school secretary. "Miss Holmebrooke." She greeted me like I was scvm under her shoes. "Principal Melrose will see you now." Even though he was expecting me, I still knocked on the door. After a gruff 'come in', I stepped into the room. Mr. Melrose is sitting behind his desk with his arms folded over his large belly. He's bald on top of his head with thin white hair on the sides and back. Mr. Melrose has the same light brown eyes as James. His frown did little to ease the anxiety in my stomach. What really caught my eye was Vanessa sitting in the chair across from him, crying. Black watered down streaks ran down her pink cheeks. Her bottom lip is jutted out and trembling. When she turned her head to me, she scowled. Uhm okay... "Miss Holmebrooke, have a seat." Mr. Melrose said. Cautiously, I took the seat next to Vanessa, and set my backpack on the floor in front of me. "What's going on?" I asked as I looked between the two of them. "Miss Elms here has told me that you have been picking on her." He told me. My eyes widened. "What?" I breathed out with a laugh. "Is this funny to you, Miss Holmebrooke?" Mr. Melrose asked with narrowed eyes. "No." I rushed out. "I mean, I'm confused. I'm here because I've been bullying her?" I asked as I pointed between Vanessa and I. "Don't act like you haven't been picking on me for the last two weeks," Vanessa said, and then turned to the principal. "She even did it before the year started. All because she's still mad that James and I are together." She whined out. Wait, so James is with her and Milinda? While also trying to 'apologize' to me? How rich. "We do not tolerate bullying in this school, Miss Holmebrooke." Mr. Melrose said, making me almost snort. "We used to be best friends, Millie. I know what I did was wrong, but James and I are in love. You have to get over that, so we can make up." Vanessa said with the utmost fakeness. Yeah, James is in love with you and everyone else, apparently. Does she really not know what is going on with her own BFF? Wow. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself, Miss Holmebrooke?" Mr. Melrose asked. My eyebrows shot up. "That I'm completely flabbergasted." I said honestly. "I haven't done anything wrong, and I think you and I both know that sir." Honestly, I've been waiting for this moment. I'm an extremely smart girl, I knew that as soon as they stopped getting a rise out of me over the lockers that something like this would happen. "Excuse me?" Mr. Melrose spit out. "I don't mean any disrespect sir, but I do have proof, and multiple witnesses, that will say that I have been the one being bullied over the last year. I have lots of pictures of all the things they wrote on my locker." I don't, but let's lie anyway. "All of which you did nothing about. My brother has also tried to bring this to your attention on more than one occasion. Never at any point did you do anything about it, sir. You let the bullying keep happening to me. As you know, my father has lots of connections with lawyers. I'm sure that they would agree you are not doing your job appropriately." I finished with a sweet smile. Mr. Melrose's face is beat red now, letting me know he's fuming. Vanessa is stunned into silence next to me. I've never been the bad-girl type. I don't want to be now, but enough is enough. I won't be bullied by anyone, not even this adult. "Are you threatening me?" He finally asked. I shook my head. "Not at all, sir. Just letting you know what could happen." Then I sighed. "Listen, I don't want trouble Mr. Melrose. I just want to finish out my senior year in peace and pay attention to my classes. Nothing more," I said. Mr. Melrose cleared his throat, and nodded his head. "Very well. You may go, Miss Holmebrooke." He said, dismissing me. I grabbed my backpack from the floor, and got up. "You're just going to let her go?" Vanessa wailed. Oh, someone is pissed off. How sad that her little plan didn't work. Boo hoo. "You are dismissed as well, Miss Elms." Mr. Melrose said with a tight tone. "But-" Vanessa tried to say. "But nothing. Go on." He said. Mrs. Oakly didn't utter a word to me as I walked out, and I didn't spare her a glance. Sometimes it baffles me that adults can treat kids this way. I know we're teenagers, but Dam. If my mother and father really knew what was going on here they really would take action. What I said to Mr. Melrose wasn't a complete lie. No, I did not take pictures, and I highly doubt anyone but Caleb and Mrs. Gibbson would be witnesses for me. But yes, my father does know some high-end people. In fact, a few of his friends from college have just moved here, and started a firm. Dad would be more than happy to take action. I might not know the ins and outs of being a principal, but I'm pretty sure if they found out Mr. Melrose has been letting me be bullied this way, he would be in trouble. There were several times that I had to go to the nurses' office last year with bloody lips or my hair pulled out. I was always able to make an excuse, but anyone could tell I was lying. It was a miracle that Mom and Dad never pressed more about it. Mr. Melrose never did anything about that. If I were to tattle on him, he would deserve it. "Millie wait." Vanessa called. I turned around and crossed my arms. "What?" I asked. "Don't have an attitude with me," she stated. Vanessa rolled her eyes, and flipped her curly red hair over her shoulder. "I just want to talk. Like old times." She said with a fake smile. "Oh, you mean all the times when you were just taking pity on me, and pretending to be my friend? Those old times?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Come on, don't be like that. I miss you." She said, pouting. Vanessa's voice sounded genuine. If I didn't know better, I would have fallen for it. Unfortunately, we have already been down this road. She has already played this card. At one point, Vanessa pretended to be sorry for what she did. She tricked me into coming with her to a party to make it up to me. Her and her little popular squad dropped me in the middle of the woods and left me there. It took me three hours to walk home. "What is it you want, Vanessa?" I asked sternly. Vanessa's beautiful smile faded, and she rolled her eyes. "Fine." She said, finally dropping the act. "Are you and James dating again?" My eyes went wide, and I just stared at her for a moment, unable to respond. "Look, if you are, just know we were together just last night. He doesn't love you. And if this is some kind of revenge against me then-" She started, but my laughter had interrupted her. I doubled over, and held my stomach as I laughed. Oh, this is too rich. I can't stop. "It's not fu.cking funny you stupid wh.ore. You stole him from me once already, Millie, just let me have him." Her voice almost sounded pleading. It's pathetic really. So pathetic that my laughter finally died down. I stared at Vanessa as she glared at me. "I didn't steal anybody from you, Vanessa. He was my boyfriend, and was sleeping with you behind my back." I told her, and then sighed. "I'm not with James. I would never embarrass myself by going back to him." Before I could finish, Vanessa scoffed. "You should be lucky he wanted you to begin with." She told me. My eyebrows shot up once again. "Right," I said, and then rolled my eyes. "I should be totally lucky that someone convinced me they loved me, just to take my virginity and dump me." "He took your virginity?" She asked with a soft voice. I looked up to see that Vanessa was genuinely curious. "Yeah." I said like it was no big deal. "He only told the whole school." "I thought he was just lying to spread rumors." Vanessa said as she looked at the ground. "Okay," I said, and then turned back toward the library. I don't care if he lied to her or to me. James is a liar, and I want nothing to do with him. Or her. "Wait Millie!" Vanessa called out as she grabbed my wrist. I turned around to face her. "What now?" I asked angrily. "You really aren't sleeping with him?" She asked me. I shook my head. "No. I would never let him touch me again. But he did get me a present and tried to apologize to me today." I told her. Did part of me tell her that just to make her mad? Yes. Did part of me say it because my feelings are hurt that she doesn't remember it's my birthday? Yes. Did part of me want to give her a reason not to go back to that scVm? Also yes. I can't help it. Vanessa was my best friend for so long. I really thought it was her and me against the world. I'm not sure what happened on her part, if she really faked the whole friendship or not. But it was all real for me. "Your birthday… I forgot…" She whispered. I shrugged. "Well, we aren't friends, so don't feel too bad about it," I said. "Right," she replied. "Is there anything else, or can I go now without being dragged back to this conversation?" I asked, annoyed. Vanessa huffed, and rolled her eyes. "Whatever nerd. You should be happy I didn't hit you like I used to last year." She stated as she strutted passed me. I shook my head as I watched Vanessa walk away. V Chapter 5: The New Boy Millie's P.O.V. ******************************************* When I entered the library, I was expecting to greet the librarian, Ted. Ted is a very sweet man. He's probably in his mid 30s. He has dark hair and light eyes. And a sweetheart. This was often the place I ran to last year. Anytime the other kids followed me in here, Ted would make them leave. Library rules for being quiet and all. I was extremely thankful to him. Eventually, Ted became a mentor to me, much like Mrs. Gibbson. He's the reason why I have read most of the books on the AP English reading list. Back to the present, Ted is not behind the desk like he normally is. I looked around but didn't see him. Shrugging, I went and took a seat at one of the desks. The library is completely empty, thank God. I had just pulled out my books to do some homework when I heard voices coming from behind me. "This should be everything that the five of you will need," Ted said. "Are you sure that the others can't come to get their own books? This is a lot for you to carry all by yourself." Is he talking to someone? "It's really not a problem." Came a deep and polite voice. "I can make a few trips if I need to, and I have my own car. The others can pick them up from me. They are all pretty busy today." I couldn't help it. I turned in my chair to see Ted and a boy that I'd never seen before come through a row of books behind me. I gulped. Wow, he is hot. He's tall, like 6'2 probably, with golden curly hair sitting in a sxy mess on top of his head. The boy has those old-timey glasses, like the ones Jeffrey Dahmer wore that are now popular. He's lean with a bit of muscle. He's wearing a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt with some kind of anime on it. His ears are pierced, and I think I can see one of those industrial bars, but I'm not sure with his mass of curls in the way. The boy's eyes found mine, as if he could feel me staring at me. His bright hazel eyes bore into me, and I could feel heat crawl up my neck, and settle in my cheeks. The boy smiled politely at me. Ted, realizing that the boy was no longer paying him attention, followed his line of sight right to me. The librarian beamed once he saw me. "Millie my dear!" Ted greeted. "Hi Ted." I greeted back with a small smile. "You're here kind of early. You didn't finish your other class?" He asked. I looked between him and the boy. "Uhm, I was called out early." I said vaguely. Ted gave me a confused look but, thankfully, didn't push me in front of the stranger. "Well, good, maybe you can help me out," he said, and then turned to the boy. "This is Oliver, he's new here. He and a few of his friends are transferring here. They are starting Monday, but he came by to get all of their books." "Okay." I said as I looked between the two of them again. Ted chuckled. "Would you mind helping him carry these books to his car before the bell rings. I fear that the students will over run him if they see him. You know we never get newcomers here," he said. I nodded, and put my pen down. "Sure. Can you watch my stuff please?" I asked Ted. "Of course," he said, and then the office phone started to ring. "Excuse me." Oliver, stood there staring at me for a moment. Gee, no wonder those glasses are popular right now. He looks smoking hot with them. I'm sure he looks smoking hot without them too though. "Hi, I'm Oliver." He introduced himself with a bright smile. I gave him a nod. "Ted said that. So, are these all the books?" I asked as I pointed to the stack of books on the table. Oliver is already holding a pretty big stack himself. "Yeah," he replied while nodding. "You don't have to help me if you don't want to." I shook my head at him, and then looked to see Ted was now off the phone. "Ted." I called, and he looked over to me. "Why don't you let us use the cart? I know it's clean because I cleaned it off for you yesterday." I said with a smile. Ted gave me a sheepish look. "I didn't even think about that. Go ahead. I still want you to go with him though. I trust you won't let anything happen to my precious cart." He said. I shook my head as a smile spread across my face. Then I went and got the nearly empty cart out. Oliver and I stacked all the books onto it in silence, and then began wheeling it out to the student parking lot. "So, you gonna tell me your name? Ya know, since you know mine?" Oliver asked once we were outside. "Millie," I said simply. "Millie…" He repeated. "Cute name for a cute girl." My face heated. I was walking behind him, so thankfully he couldn't see my face. I wasn't being the most polite, and I knew that. It's just that I'm cautious now. Honestly, I felt a bit guilty about it. Oliver seems like such a nice guy, being friends with me would make him a target though. It was best we stayed away from each other, even if he is the hottest guy that has ever talked to me. Much hotter than James. "So, Millie, tell me, do you like it here?" Oliver asked. Oh God. "Sure," I replied. Oliver turned his head, and raised a brow at me. "You don't have to lie to me, Millie. I have to attend here whether I like it or not." He said with a chuckle. We made it to Oliver's car, which looked expensive. He opened the back door behind the driver's side, and began putting the books in. I stood there awkwardly. Should I tell him this place suks? I don't really want to get into the details of my personal experience here. Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut. Once the books were in Oliver's car, he shut the door, and turned to look at me. He leaned against the car, and smiled. "So?" He asked with his eyebrow raised. How can someone look so cocky and so smart at the same time? I sighed, and rolled my eyes. "This school suks a.ss. But it's high school. Stay away from me though, and it shouldn't be too bad," I said, and then grabbed the cart to wheel it back. I could hear Oliver chuckle behind me as I started walking back to school. "Stay away from you? I don't think so, Millie." He called out, but I ignored him. My face heated up instantly at his words, and my steps moved quicker. It took me no more than three minutes to get back to the library. The moment I got back, and sat back down, the bell rang. I could hear the hallway fill with kids, and a few of them staggered in here. I tried to focus on my homework for the whole hour, but my thoughts were consumed with the blonde boy I had just met. Why would he say that? Is he really not going to leave me alone? Does he want to bully me? Is it....something else? Why do I feel nervous and excited? Ugh! Get a grip Millie! He's just a boy, and who cares if he wants to bully you? It's not like the rest of the school hasn't. And if he wants something else... Well, I'm sure he won't once he finds out that everyone hates me. So, win-win for me. Right? When the last bell rang, I waited in the library as I finished up my homework. I was just waiting for the halls to clear more before leaving. One more question on this stupid calculus homework and I was good to go. Only, I was having trouble with it. Ugh! Calculus is going to be the death of me. "Want me to tell you the answer?" A voice came from behind me. I jumped and let out a little yelp. Ted's eyes narrowed at me and I gave him an apologetic smile. Then I turned a glare onto the voice that interrupted me. Oliver was standing behind me with a wide smile that made his hazel eyes brighter. He has a few more books tucked under his arm. I continued to glare at him. "You scared the shht out of me." I whisper-yelled at him. Oliver chuckled and took the seat next to me. "What are you doing?" I asked him. "You look like you need help." He told me as he pulled my book and notebook towards him. I pulled it back. "I am doing just fine thank you." I stated. Oliver raised a brow at me. "Really?" He asked, and then snatched my notebook away. "Because questions 3, 5, 10, and 18 are wrong." He stated with slight amusement. "What?" I asked seriously, and took my notebook back to look over my work. "But I followed what the book showed me…" I mumbled and then let out a loud groan before turning another glare on Oliver. "How do you know I'm wrong?" I asked. Oliver's smile widened. "Math is what I am best at. Calculus is no biggie for me." He said, and then leaned back in his chair. "But I gotta say, it's pretty hot that you're taking an AP math class." I blushed. "Wait, why is that hot?" I asked with furrowed brows. Oliver chuckled and leaned back up in his seat. "Smart girls are sxy as hll to me." He whispered in my ear. Oh no. My face has got to be as red as a tomato by now. What the h*ll is with this guy? I haven't even been nice to him. I turned my head ready to say something snarky, but he was so close to me that the words died on my lips. Instead, I gulped. Shht, did he hear that? "Now, would you like my help or not?" He asked, and then his eyes flickered down to my lips. I gulped again. "I.. Uhm.." Wait, what did he ask me again? I need help with something, right? Yeah, help. I need.. help... "Millie!" Called a voice that broke me from my trance. I jumped so far back I almost fell out of my chair. Thankfully, Oliver grabbed my arm to stop my fall. My breathing was coming out hard and my face was hot again. "Mr. Holmebrooke, I love your sister dearly, and I know it's her birthday, so I will let you off with a warning this time. Shhhh." Ted said to my brother who had called for me. "Sorry Ted, Millie is running late, and our parents are looking for her." Caleb said as he walked over to us. "Shht already?" I asked as I looked at the clock. "Wait, shouldn't you be getting ready?" Caleb stopped in front of the table, and looked between Oliver and I. Oliver still had his hand around my upper arm. The heat from his body feels... so nice. Caleb narrowed his eyes at Oliver. "Who the fk are you?" My little brother asked. "Caleb!" I scolded him. Oliver finally let my arm go and then reached his hand out to my brother. "Hi, I'm Oliver. I'm new here. Pretty sure my friend is on the football team too. You might know him. His name is Atals," Oliver said politely. Caleb's eyes hardened at the name 'Atlas'. Oh no, that must be the guy Caleb is worried about. Still, my little brother took Oliver's hand politely. "Caleb," he stated. "And yeah, I know him. He's good." My brother said and then turned his eyes to me. "I know it's your birthday and all, but could you hurry your @ss up. Mom and Dad are outside waiting for you. They want to take you out for food before the game," he said. I started to gather my things. "You aren't coming?" I asked. Caleb gave me a blank look. "I have a game to prepare for. And I'm sure we'll go out after. Not like you can't put away food." He teased me. I rolled my eyes. Caleb is right. I can put away a lot of food. In fact, I love food. If I didn't have such a good metabolism, I would be 500 pounds by now. "Wait, it's your birthday?" Oliver asked after I stood up. I slung my backpack over my shoulder. "Yeah," I said. Oliver graced me with a huge and s*xy smile. "Happy birthday Millie. If I had known I was going to meet such a pretty girl today, I would have brought you a present." He said. Caleb tensed, and then grabbed my wrist. "She doesn't need anything from you, but thanks anyway." Caleb said, and then started to drag me out of the library. I looked behind me as Caleb pulled me through the door. Oliver was staring at me still with a smile on his full lips. He gave me a small wave and then I disappeared. "Did you really have to do that?" I asked Caleb once we reached my locker. Huh, no new love notes. Good. "That guy was flirting with you." Caleb said like it was a defense. I sighed. "You could have let me live in a blissful bubble for a little bit though. I'm sure once he finds out the rumors he won't want anything to do with me." I whined. "Exactly why he doesn't need to flirt with you in the first place. You've been hurt enough." Caleb said. I let out another sigh as I shut my locker. "I'm supposed to be the one protecting you, little brother." I said. Caleb beamed at me and then ruffled my hair. "Then you should be taller." He said with a laugh. I swatted his hand away and smoothed down my hair. "Whatever. I'm going to find Mom and Dad." VI Chapter 6: Yelling At The Coach Millie's P.O.V. *************************************** On our way out, I spotted Oliver's car still in the parking lot. I wonder if he's staying for the game. He did say his friend was on the team, and this was the first game of the year. I shook my head, it doesn't matter anyway. The three of us went to dinner at my favorite restaurant in town. It's a bit fancy though. I didn't realize we had time to sit for this kind of dinner. "Are you guys sure we have time for this? I don't want to be late to Caleb's first game," I asked them. Mom waved me off as she scanned the menu. "Your father called ahead and told them we would need to be quick." She told me. I looked at Dad, who gave me a bright smile. "Perks of knowing every, even slightly important person," I mumbled. Dad chuckled. "Well, I told the owner that I could help bring some rich clientele to his business. You know my old friends have opened a firm in the city and are staying here in this town. This place could be a meeting ground." He told me. I shook my head. "All so that you could rush your daughter's birthday dinner." I teased. Mom, Dad, and I made small talk while we ate. Dad was right, they were quick for us. They asked me about school and I told them about Mrs. Gibbson's gifts and how Mr. Douglas offered to help me with my essay. I left out all the bad things though. It was nice. The only thing missing is my annoying little brother that I love so dearly. "So, how does it feel to be 18?" Mom asked excitedly
Após seu casamento perfeito desmoronar, Victoria, uma cirurgiã de 30 anos, abriga Ian, um rebelde cantor de rock de 20 anos. Entre o caos da emergência e a liberdade da música, ela descobre que o garoto que ela tentava salvar é quem realmente lhe ensinará a amar e a viver novamente.
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I'd just picked up my soup spoon when Raphael Gunning told me we'd have to put off getting our marriage license. "We'll do it some other day." Raphael set down his fork, his tone casual, like he was just commenting on the weather. I took a sip of soup. "Alright." He glanced at me, then looked down to pick up some food with his fork, only to lift his eyes toward me again. "You're not upset?" I took another sip of soup, my voice steady. "No." We held our wedding six months ago, and this was the seventeenth time we'd put off getting our marriage license. He was used to this. So was I. After I finished my meal, I stood up to clear the table. As I walked past him, he grabbed my wrist. "McKinley, I swear I'll be free next Monday. "We already had the wedding anyway. A few more days won't make a difference. "You can trust me. I won't bail on you this time." I stared at his hand holding mine, then lifted my gaze to meet his eyes and smiled, "Okay." Over the past six months, he had said "next week" nine times, promised "for sure" thirteen times, and told me to "trust him" sixteen times. Still, we never got our marriage certificate. And next week would be no different—because this time, I'd be the one to stand him up. My phone vibrated. It was a message from the law firm's HR. "You're resigning? Does Mr. Gunning know?" I held my phone and stepped outside while Raphael stayed sitting at the dining table. He stared at me with a strange expression, hesitated for a moment, then spoke tentatively, "Why aren't you asking me why this time?" I replied to HR's message first before turning my attention to Raphael. "It doesn't matter anymore." I meant every single word. The first time we planned to get our marriage certificate, his intern, Valerie Huxley, said she had a stomachache. I sat on a bench outside the city hall from dawn till dusk and went home alone. The second time, Valerie said she couldn't figure out how to put together a case spreadsheet. He'd left me stranded at a busy highway exit and rushed straight back to the firm without a second glance. Every time after that, whenever we set a date for our marriage license, Valerie would suddenly have some sort of emergency. Over the past six months, this same scene had played out seventeen times. Raphael froze at my words. His Adam's apple bobbed. After a short silence, he held his phone out to me. "A lot of people hire photographers to film them when they get their marriage certificate these days. "We should do that too. You've always loved that kind of romantic gesture, right?" So, he did remember I loved simple romantic moments. I thought for a second and asked, "Are you free tonight? Let's go out for..." I intended to ask him out for a final meal, but his phone rang before I finished speaking. The call was from his trainee, Valerie. I couldn't hear what she said on the other end, but after he hung up, Raphael looked at me. "Honey, Val..." I cut him off with a soft smile. "Go on. Drive safe." Raphael froze, clearly surprised by how calm I was being. But after a moment, he got dressed and headed out. "I'll bring you a gift when I come back tonight." The door slammed shut with a loud thud. Soon, I heard a car start and drive away right after. I stood there, staring at the closed door. Five years together, six months of a wedding— I should've let go of this relationship a long time ago. Chapter 2 That afternoon, I went into the office and handed my resignation letter straight to HR. She looked at me, her expression a mix of regret and confusion. "You and Mr. Gunning are the firm's golden team. At your wedding six months ago, even the partners came to congratulate you, not to mention all those clients. "Everyone was so envious of you back then. Why are you leaving all of a sudden?" I thought about our wedding six months ago: having a hundred and ten tables of guests, red carpets laid out, and flowers everywhere. Raphael held my hand and promised he'd protect me for the rest of my life. It had been a grand celebration, a perfect day. But no matter how wonderful it had been, those days were long gone. It was past ten o'clock at night when I got home after handing in my resignation. The house was eerily quiet and empty. Just then, an Instagram post from Valerie popped up on my phone. She'd tagged me directly. "Thanks to my mentor for staying with me all afternoon. In return, I'll take him to a concert tomorrow." I knew Raphael, who'd said he'd come home at noon, wasn't coming back. This had happened far too many times in the six months since we'd held the wedding. I ate dinner and didn't save any food for Raphael like I used to. Instead, I opened my email, which held job offers from law firms in over a dozen countries. I moved my mouse to the one from France, accepted the offer without hesitation, and booked a flight to Paris in two days. --- The next morning, I started packing. In the master bedroom closet, my clothes were on the left and Raphael's on the right. Raphael would have never worn those bright, colorful shirts before. But after Valerie came, she said they made him look approachable and more popular with clients. Since then, he'd stop wearing the tailored high-end suits I'd carefully picked out for him. I smiled faintly and placed my own clothes into the suitcase. I was only halfway done when Raphael came home. He was wearing a pink shirt, and it smelled like Valerie's favorite perfume. When he saw me, he froze briefly before explaining instinctively, "Val insisted on going shopping last night. It was too late to drive home, so I stayed in a hotel room." I nodded and said nothing. It was the first time he'd volunteered an explanation in six months of marriage. He took two steps closer, his eyes landing on the suitcase. "Are you going on a business trip?" "Yeah." For some reason, he looked relieved. "I have things to do today. I just came back to grab something." "Alright." I kept folding clothes without looking up. I'd planned to tell him I quit over lunch, but now it seemed unnecessary. He murmured in response, pulled out a red gift bag, grabbed his coat by the door, and hurried off. The second the door closed, the photo frame that had hung on the wall for six months crashed down, sending shards of glass flying. It was our wedding photo. In it, he wore the suit I'd picked out, and I wore my wedding dress. Back then, he told me he'd love me, cherish me, and care for me forever. I'd teared up and smiled like an idiot. But once Valerie showed up, he'd forgotten all those promises. I stared at the photo for a long time before cleaning up the broken glass. Then I threw the happy photo into the trash can, gone, along with the last of my feelings for him. Chapter 3 That evening, I'd just lain down on the bed when my best friend called. "Have you checked Instagram? What's going on with Raphael and Valerie?!" I unlocked my phone and saw Valerie had just posted a new update. It was a nine-photo grid, with a new necklace around her neck as the centerpiece. The caption read, "Happy 22nd birthday to me. Thanks for the gift, Mr. Gunning." In the bottom-right picture, half of a red gift bag was visible. So, Raphael had come home at noon just to grab Valerie's birthday present. My bestie kept ranting over the phone, "You've only been married six months, and she's already pulling this? What is wrong with Raphael?" "We never got our marriage certificate." Dead silence filled the line. After a long moment, her voice came through, thick with disbelief. "What?" "We had the wedding, but we never officially got married," I explained, my voice completely flat. There was another long pause. Finally, her voice dropped, laced with sympathy. "What are you going to do?" I glanced at my packed suitcase. "I'm flying to Paris tomorrow. A law firm over there offered me a job a while back." "He's not stopping you?" "He has no idea." And he wouldn't care even if he did. Ending the call, I checked Valerie's Instagram again. After a moment, I liked the post, considering it a final blessing before I left for good. At ten o'clock that night, Raphael came home. He walked in and reached to hang up his coat as usual, but froze halfway. "Where's the photo by the door?" He didn't even hang up his coat before walking into the bedroom, his voice slightly panicked. "Honey, where's our picture?" I leaned against the headboard and said calmly, "It fell and broke." At that, he glanced at the broken glass in the trash can and relaxed. Then he pulled a Louis Vuitton bag out of his own and held it out. "I said I'd get you a gift yesterday but didn't have time. Today... I made up for it." I froze for a second. Only then did I remember him saying yesterday morning, "I'll bring a gift when I come home tonight." I hadn't expected him to remember. Then, I saw the time on the receipt, from half an hour earlier. He'd probably felt guilty after seeing I liked Valerie's post, so he'd stopped at a store on the way home and bought a bag to make up for it. I didn't take it or say anything. Raphael set the bag on the bed, hesitating. "By the way, about the firm's Employee of the Month award next month, could you..." "Let Valerie have it?" He looked surprised I'd said it first and nodded awkwardly. "She's just starting out and really needs this recognition. You've won it several times already..." So, even this last-minute gift came with strings attached. I nodded. "Alright." Chapter 4 He looked stunned—probably hadn't expected me to agree so easily. "You're not mad?" I shook my head. There was nothing to be angry about. From now on, I didn't need any of the things she wanted—whether it was the Employee of the Month award or Raphael's favor. He relaxed and added, "Val is my trainee, and you're my wife. It's only right that you're generous. "Oh, and let's go to city hall tomorrow morning." I stared at him and said nothing. He seemed to remember something. "I almost forgot you're going on a business trip. What time is your flight tomorrow?" "Three PM." "Then we have time," he said at once, his tone firm. "Meet me at the city hall at ten AM. I've already hired a photographer and put down a deposit." I was about to tell him it wasn't necessary, that we didn't need to do this anymore. But his phone rang again, right on cue. Valerie's name flashed on the screen. He picked up, and her sweet voice came through the screen, saying her stomach hurt terribly and asking if he could take her to the hospital. He hung up, and for once, a flicker of hesitation crossed his face. I said, "Go." He looked relieved and pulled me into a quick hug. "Dress nicely tomorrow. I'll be there, I promise. No last-minute cancellations." With that, he grabbed his coat and left. The second the door closed, I glanced at the LV bag on the bed. The receipt was still tucked inside. I didn't open it, but put it back in the bag exactly as it was and placed it on the top shelf of the closet. Up there were two more bags of the same style, different colors—all his previous "impulse buys." --- The next morning at 9:30, I zipped up my last suitcase and took one last look at the room. In the closet, Raphael's clothes hung neatly in a row. The other side was empty. At 9:45, fifteen minutes before our scheduled appointment to get the marriage certificate, I called a cab and left for the airport. At ten o'clock, he still hadn't texted me or called me. And by noon, I still hadn't received a call from Raphael asking why I hadn't shown up. That afternoon, I picked up my boarding pass and walked to the gate. Just as I was about to board, my phone finally buzzed. It was two messages from Raphael, sent one right after the other. "Honey, Val's in the hospital and I can't leave her. I don't think I can make it to the marriage registration today." "When you get back from this trip, I'll pick you up at the airport, and we'll go straight to the city hall. I won't let anything get in the way this time." Reading his messages, I felt nothing. Sure enough, for the eighteenth time, he'd bailed on our marriage license. I kept my face calm as I typed my reply, "It's okay, Raphael. I've resigned. I'm starting a new job abroad." "After today, we're nothing to each other." After sending the last message, I was about to turn off my phone when the screen lit up, his familiar number flashing constantly.
When her seemingly perfect marriage collapses overnight, a guarded 30-year-old ER surgeon, Victoria, gives shelter to a rebellious 20-year-old rock singer, Ian, only to discover that the boy she thought needed saving may be the one capable of teaching her how to love again and start over.
When her seemingly perfect marriage collapses overnight, a guarded 30-year-old ER surgeon, Victoria, gives shelter to a rebellious 20-year-old rock singer, Ian, only to discover that the boy she thought needed saving may be the one capable of teaching her how to love again and start over.
When her seemingly perfect marriage collapses overnight, a guarded 30-year-old ER surgeon, Victoria, gives shelter to a rebellious 20-year-old rock singer, Ian, only to discover that the boy she thought needed saving may be the one capable of teaching her how to love again and start over.
When her seemingly perfect marriage collapses overnight, a guarded 30-year-old ER surgeon, Victoria, gives shelter to a rebellious 20-year-old rock singer, Ian, only to discover that the boy she thought needed saving may be the one capable of teaching her how to love again and start over.
When her seemingly perfect marriage collapses overnight, a guarded 30-year-old ER surgeon, Victoria, gives shelter to a rebellious 20-year-old rock singer, Ian, only to discover that the boy she thought needed saving may be the one capable of teaching her how to love again and start over.
When her seemingly perfect marriage collapses overnight, a guarded 30-year-old ER surgeon, Victoria, gives shelter to a rebellious 20-year-old rock singer, Ian, only to discover that the boy she thought needed saving may be the one capable of teaching her how to love again and start over.
When her seemingly perfect marriage collapses overnight, a guarded 30-year-old ER surgeon, Victoria, gives shelter to a rebellious 20-year-old rock singer, Ian, only to discover that the boy she thought needed saving may be the one capable of teaching her how to love again and start over.
Cuando su matrimonio perfecto se derrumba, Victoria, cirujana de urgencias de 30 años, acoge al rebelde cantante Ian. Pronto descubre que quien parecía necesitar ayuda es quien puede enseñarle a amar de nuevo y empezar de cero.
I started keeping a list about four months ago. I'd notice something and I'd write it down on a small notepad I kept in my desk drawer. By the third week the list was longer than I wanted to admit. ⠀ Things I used to do without thinking that had become problems. ⠀ I'm Walter. I'm 63. I quit smoking 12 years ago after 33 years of Marlboro Reds. ⠀ The morning ritual is still the same. The wet cough. The wheeze. Same stuff every morning. Same as yesterday. ⠀ But the part nobody had warned me about was the slow disappearance of what my body used to do without me even noticing. ⠀ The list: ⠀ The stairs in my own house. One flight. Fourteen steps. I used to take them two at a time. Now I take them one at a time and I hold the banister halfway up because my chest tightens around step nine. ⠀ The grocery bags from the car to the kitchen. Four bags. Maybe forty feet of driveway and walkway and front hall. I used to bring them all in one trip. Now I bring them in two trips. Three sometimes. I close the front door between trips so my neighbors don't see me standing in the driveway resting. ⠀ The parking lot at the grocery store. The one we've been going to for 22 years. The walk from the car to the entrance. About 90 yards. I used to walk it without thinking. Now I park as close as I can and I take the cart from the corral 30 feet in so I have something to lean on for the rest of the walk. ⠀ The dog. Ranger. A golden retriever I've had for seven years. He used to walk with me through the neighborhood. Forty minutes. Now I take him out for ten minutes and he gets to the end of the leash before I get to the end of the driveway because I can't keep up. ⠀ The laundry basket. From the basement to the bedroom. Two flights up. I used to carry it in one trip. Now I set it on the landing halfway up and I sit on the stairs for a minute before I take it the rest of the way. Linda asked me last spring why I'd been doing laundry from the basement landing. I told her I just liked folding it there. She didn't ask again. ⠀ The phone. I used to be on the phone for an hour at a time. My brother out in Indiana. My old foreman from the union hall. My sister in Florida. Now I can't get past five minutes before my breath catches and I have to pause mid sentence and the person on the other end says "you okay Walter." I tell them yeah I just took a sip of water. I didn't take a sip of water. ⠀ The laugh. The real laugh. The kind that used to come up from somewhere below the diaphragm when something was actually funny. Now when I laugh hard I end up coughing for 30 seconds. Last Thanksgiving my brother in law told a story that broke the table up. Everyone was laughing. I laughed too. Then I coughed for almost a minute and the table got quiet and my niece asked her mother if Uncle Walter was okay. I haven't laughed like that in front of family since. ⠀ The list has 17 items on it now. ⠀ None of them are things I can't physically do. ⠀ They're all things I'd been doing differently than I used to do them. And differently than men my age were supposed to do them. ⠀ I'd been telling myself it was age. ⠀ 63 isn't 30. Of course the stairs are harder. ⠀ But other guys at the union hall, the ones who never smoked or quit decades earlier than I did, take stairs without holding a banister. Carry their grocery bags in one trip. Talk on the phone for an hour without their breath catching. ⠀ The age explanation didn't hold up to the comparison. ⠀ After the Thanksgiving incident I went to my office and I started looking. Not for general lung advice. For something specific. ⠀ I needed to know why twelve years off the cigarettes my body was still operating like there were cigarettes in it. ⠀ I read four medical association timelines. They all said the same thing. ⠀ Within five to seven years your lung function returns to within range of a non smoker. ⠀ I'm twelve years out. My breath catches on the second flight of stairs. ⠀ Around 1am I found a piece written by a man named Mark Reeves. He'd worked for 13 years as a respiratory therapist at a VA hospital. ⠀ He had watched ex smokers come back to his clinic year after year, doing everything their doctor had told them, still living with the same list I had been keeping. ⠀ He explained what every standard timeline misses. ⠀ There's old tar that builds up over decades of smoking. The body doesn't have a natural way to break it down on its own. ⠀ When you quit smoking that buildup stops growing. But it doesn't go away. Year after year it just sits there. ⠀ Underneath that buildup is the body's own cleaning system. Microscopic hairs called cilia that should sweep the airways automatically. In long term smokers those hairs aren't damaged the way you'd think. They're alive. They're buried under what's been left behind. They can't sweep because they can't move. ⠀ The morning ritual was my body trying to do manually what those buried cilia should have been doing on their own. ⠀ And every single item on my list was happening because my lungs were working with what was available underneath everything that had been left behind. ⠀ I hadn't been getting older. Something else had been quietly taking up space year after year. ⠀ Then Reeves wrote the sentence that made me close the laptop. ⠀ Every mullein capsule and NAC pill and supplement I'd been buying for 12 years had been broken down by stomach acid before any of it could reach my bloodstream. The herb was right. The capsule was the wrong way to get it there. ⠀ And even if a capsule had made it through, no single ingredient could break down what was sitting in there. It required five different actions happening at the same time. Five jobs. Not one. The mullein alone was never going to be enough. ⠀ I had a cabinet of bottles above my microwave that had been doing nothing because none of them could reach what was actually causing every item on my list. ⠀ I started doing what Reeves described that next Monday. Five ingredients. Different delivery. The kind that bypasses the stomach completely and goes into the bloodstream directly under the tongue. ⠀ The first week I felt nothing. ⠀ The second week I carried two grocery bags from the car to the kitchen in one trip and I was already at the counter before I noticed. ⠀ The third week I walked Ranger for fifteen minutes instead of ten. He didn't pull as much because we were moving closer to the same pace. ⠀ Last month I took the stairs to my bedroom one at a time but I didn't grab the banister at step nine. I didn't notice until I was already at the top. ⠀ I'm not telling you my list is empty now. There are still items on it. The phone calls still catch me sometimes. The full belly laugh still ends in a cough every once in a while. ⠀ I'm telling you that for twelve years I'd been making a longer and longer list of things I'd been doing differently than I used to do them. The list had been growing because of something I'd been told had already healed. ⠀ It hadn't healed. It had been waiting me out. ⠀ The mullein wasn't the problem. The capsule was. Five was needed. One was tried. ⠀ The same article Mark Reeves wrote is still online. ⠀ If you've been keeping your own version of a list, the list isn't aging. ⠀ It's the thing aging hasn't told you about yet.
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Reach goals easily and get: 💪 Step-by-step workout journey 💪 Habit building system 💪 Meal plan based on your goal 💪 Easy-to-follow recipes 💪 Strong muscles 💪 More confidence, better sleep
When her seemingly perfect marriage collapses overnight, a guarded 30-year-old ER surgeon, Victoria, gives shelter to a rebellious 20-year-old rock singer, Ian, only to discover that the boy she thought needed saving may be the one capable of teaching her how to love again and start over.
When her seemingly perfect marriage collapses overnight, a guarded 30-year-old ER surgeon, Victoria, gives shelter to a rebellious 20-year-old rock singer, Ian, only to discover that the boy she thought needed saving may be the one capable of teaching her how to love again and start over.
When her seemingly perfect marriage collapses overnight, a guarded 30-year-old ER surgeon, Victoria, gives shelter to a rebellious 20-year-old rock singer, Ian, only to discover that the boy she thought needed saving may be the one capable of teaching her how to love again and start over.
When her seemingly perfect marriage collapses overnight, a guarded 30-year-old ER surgeon, Victoria, gives shelter to a rebellious 20-year-old rock singer, Ian, only to discover that the boy she thought needed saving may be the one capable of teaching her how to love again and start over.
Após seu casamento perfeito desmoronar, Victoria, uma cirurgiã de 30 anos, abriga Ian, um rebelde cantor de rock de 20 anos. Entre o caos da emergência e a liberdade da música, ela descobre que o garoto que ela tentava salvar é quem realmente lhe ensinará a amar e a viver novamente.
When her seemingly perfect marriage collapses overnight, a guarded 30-year-old ER surgeon, Victoria, gives shelter to a rebellious 20-year-old rock singer, Ian, only to discover that the boy she thought needed saving may be the one capable of teaching her how to love again and start over.
When her seemingly perfect marriage collapses overnight, a guarded 30-year-old ER surgeon, Victoria, gives shelter to a rebellious 20-year-old rock singer, Ian, only to discover that the boy she thought needed saving may be the one capable of teaching her how to love again and start over.
When her seemingly perfect marriage collapses overnight, a guarded 30-year-old ER surgeon, Victoria, gives shelter to a rebellious 20-year-old rock singer, Ian, only to discover that the boy she thought needed saving may be the one capable of teaching her how to love again and start over.
When her seemingly perfect marriage collapses overnight, a guarded 30-year-old ER surgeon, Victoria, gives shelter to a rebellious 20-year-old rock singer, Ian, only to discover that the boy she thought needed saving may be the one capable of teaching her how to love again and start over.
Gdy jej idealne małżeństwo rozpada się, Victoria, chirurg, daje schronienie zbuntowanemu piosenkarzowi Ianowi. Odkrywa, że chłopak, który miał potrzebować ratunku, może nauczyć ją kochać na nowo. Romans, muzyka i odrodzenie. Romans, muzyka i odrodzenie.
When her seemingly perfect marriage collapses overnight, a guarded 30-year-old ER surgeon, Victoria, gives shelter to a rebellious 20-year-old rock singer, Ian, only to discover that the boy she thought needed saving may be the one capable of teaching her how to love again and start over.
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In 4 weeks, a lot can change 🙌 Join the 28 Days Challenge and work toward losing 2–4 kg with a routine you can actually follow.