His 181St Second (Laverne and Marina) novel Chapter 18

**Winds Carry Lost Promises by Asa Holt Vale**
**Chapter 18**

Marina took a deep breath, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “I just went through an emotionless arranged marriage and a romance that fell apart. It’s not as if I committed a heinous crime, Mr. Zamoral! Why do you insist on reminding me of my mistakes and constantly hounding me?”

Her voice, though slightly strained, carried a strength that belied her inner turmoil. It was evident that Daron’s deliberate obstacles were pushing her limits, and a hint of sass crept into her tone, a defiant edge that she hoped would cut through the tension.

Daron stood on the balcony, silent and contemplative, as he casually flicked the crumpled cigarette butt into the trash can.

The atmosphere thickened with an uncomfortable silence, stretching between them like an invisible barrier.

Marina hesitated, the weight of the moment settling in. She realized that Daron was not someone she could unleash her frustrations upon without consequence. Taking a moment to gather herself, she managed to suppress her feelings. “I’m sorry. I’ve overstepped my bounds. I’ll be on my way now.”

With a swift turn, she began to walk away, a flicker of wistfulness crossing her features as she stole one last glance at him.

Daron, in that moment, resembled the hero from one of those male power fantasy novels—abandoned, only to return and deliver a stinging rebuke to his oblivious ex-fiancée.

Marina had never fathomed that a relationship lasting seven years could unravel into such a humiliating catastrophe. Always competitive, she felt small and unable to hold her head high in front of Daron.

While she waited for the elevator, a series of heavy sighs escaped her lips, each one carrying away a fragment of her energy. She felt utterly drained, as if the very essence of her spirit had been siphoned away.

As the elevator doors slid open, Garret stepped out, a casual wave in his direction. But Marina, consumed by her thoughts, shuffled past him with her head bowed and eyes averted. She pressed the button for her floor and stood there, staring blankly at the wall as if it were a confessional, contemplating her myriad of failures.

The doors closed with a soft hiss, leaving Garret’s hand suspended in mid-air, perplexed. He scratched his head in confusion before making his way into Daron’s apartment.

Daron, cigarette still smoldering between his fingers, looked up at the sound of the door.

Garret immediately sensed the shift in Daron’s demeanor; his expression dimmed at the sight of him, as though Garret’s presence had cast a shadow over the room.

“Daron,” he began, picking up on the underlying tension, “even if Ms. Finley didn’t come back, you don’t have to give me that look, do you?”

Daron shot him a blank stare, then exhaled a cloud of smoke that swirled around him, momentarily obscuring his face.

Garret sauntered over, his usual laid-back demeanor in place, eager for some gossip. “So, Daron, what was Ms. Finley here for? Don’t tell me she’s reconsidering and wants to tie the knot with you now?”

Daron shot him a withering glare. “Which part of her did you think looked regretful?”

She might regret her choice to be with Lavern, but breaking off their engagement? No, she had no second thoughts about that.

Garret pressed on, “I ran into her by the elevator; she seemed completely downcast, like her heart had been shattered. Isn’t that a sign she tried to make amends only to be met with rejection?”

Daron scoffed internally. ‘Crushed? Hardly. When she came at me with full force, she was anything but defeated.’

He tapped his cigarette lightly, shaking off the ash. “You sound like you’ve got firsthand experience, another love story gone awry?”

He lingered on the word “another,” and Garret’s expression fell. With a theatrical groan, he desperately sought to change the subject.

“Bette texted me earlier,” Garret said, shifting the focus. “She’s heading to Sicester tomorrow and made me promise to bug you about wearing that coat she got you for the meetup.”

Daron grunted, his annoyance palpable though he didn’t outright reject the suggestion.

Bette Blanchard, who had been born just minutes before Daron, had taken it upon herself to curate his wardrobe since their childhood. Once she stepped into the fashion world, her complaints about his endless collection of identical black suits escalated, and she began to overhaul his closet entirely.

In fact, over seventy percent of Daron’s clothing was a result of her intervention.

Garret felt a rush of relief at the thought that someone could finally rein Daron in, as if he’d glimpsed a flicker of hope at the end of a long tunnel.

Following Bette’s instructions, he ventured into Daron’s walk-in closet to assemble an outfit for the next day.

He rummaged through every section but couldn’t find the elusive black wool coat. Then suddenly, a thought struck him, and he called out to Daron, “I think your wool coat is over at Ms. Finley’s place.”

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