Abdul_wadood_0017

"In a world where silence hides secrets, she hears everything...
Growing up, Ava knew fear all too well. Her parents’ cruelty left scars deeper than anyone could see—except for her. Because Ava isn’t ordinary. She can hear people’s thoughts, each one revealing hidden truths, silent lies, and dark desires.

Then one night, her parents are found dead. With no clues as to who did it, she’s taken in by a quiet stranger who seems to know more than he lets on. Her new life promises safety, but also secrets—secrets that whisper in her mind and hint at a past far darker than she could have imagined.

As Ava digs deeper, she realizes that the key to unlocking her past could cost her everything. But to find out the truth, she’ll have to risk listening to the voices she fears most.

Werewolf (Ava)

The faint glow of the city filters through the curtains, painting streaks of light on the ceiling as I collapse onto my bed. My body feels like it's made of lead, every muscle aching from the seventeen-hour shift I just endured. Another long night, another whirlwind of patients, diagnoses, and surgeries.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding and glance at the clock on my nightstand. 9:48 AM. Morning, technically, but for me, it might as well be midnight. My senior year as a neurosurgeon is a grueling test of endurance—every day filled with endless patients and at least two or three surgeries.

I replay snippets of the night in my mind: the steady beep of monitors, the tension in the operating room, the fleeting moments of relief when a procedure ends successfully. Minho's voice cuts through the haze of my thoughts—his usual calm and precision balancing my own exhaustion as we tackled yet another emergency together. It's comforting, having an old school friend like him around, someone who understands the relentless pace of this life.

I sit up just long enough to peel off my scrubs and let them fall in a heap on the floor, too tired to care about the mess. The cool sheets are a welcome contrast to the heat and chaos of the hospital. As I sink into the mattress, my hand reaches for the lamp switch, and with a soft click, the room plunges into darkness.

The quiet hum of the city beyond the walls feels oddly soothing, a reminder that the world keeps turning even when I feel like I've stopped. Jia's voice echoes faintly from the kitchen, probably talking to someone on the phone or scolding the kettle for boiling too slowly.

My eyelids grow heavier as I let myself relax, muscles unwinding bit by bit. In the stillness, a familiar pang stirs in my chest—the same one that sneaks up on me when I'm too tired to push it away. Liam. His name comes unbidden, and I curse myself for the thousandth time for letting him linger in my thoughts.

I turn onto my side, hugging the pillow closer, as if it could block out the ache. Somewhere, in some other part of the world, he's living his life, just as I'm living mine. And yet, no matter how far I go or how many hours I bury myself in work, his memory feels closer than ever.

But there's no use dwelling on what can't be undone. My body needs rest, and my mind needs peace, even if only for a few hours. With a deep, shuddering breath, I let the exhaustion take over, the sound of the city fading as sleep finally claims me.

A Fragile Pause