Ceaseless Chains Copyright © 2020 xXMopelXx All Rights Reserved.

Chapter posted - July 3, 2020

Weekly updates are now commencing! The plagiarism issue wasn't resolved, therefore this is the LAST story I give to wattpad for free - I'll finish my other manuscripts as well. I'll be self publishing (rewriting/editing old manuscripts) in 2021. Thank you to everyone who's given me relentless support <3 Big shoutout to all my Bees on my social medias. I'll let y'all know when I start a facebook group. x

PS: Teagan is half European and half Middle Eastern. I cannot wait for y'all to witness the dynamics between Tee and Oli <3 These two are scorching and probably the characters I'm most proud of yet. 

Playlist Song: Jhene Aiko - Triggered

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C H A P T E R  1

Teagan

There was something tumultuous and storm-tossed about the springtime rainfall of this Vancouver evening.

The skies were crying darkly: a perfect reflection of my inner turmoil.

I tipped my head back, taking my umbrella with me to stare head-on at the turbulent clouds, letting my face soak with droplets for just, just a second.

Fredview Strip had a quiet stillness to it, despite the roaring of mother nature. I remained halted in the middle of the sidewalk, a few distances from Le Petit Moulin, where my shift began in fifteen minutes.

I pondered how I'd gotten here. It felt like the blink of an eye ago I was in Boston. Blink forward, and I was back home in the shell of a changed woman.

I laid awake plenty of nights, counting whatever few blessings I had left. I wondered why the universe had aligned itself in a way where I always got screwed over.

Or, maybe, I was the one who always screwed myself over.

I guess some people were just put onto this earth to be dished misery. Me being one of those prominent ones, of course.

Trapped in a trance, contemplating over the deep purpose of my life, with a potential existential crisis looming over me like the chilly overcast, a sleek grey car parallel parked next to me in a haste.

And inadvertently splashed the side of my body with dirty rainwater.

My teeth chattered as I braced myself for more. Did that really just happen to me?

We are testing your patience, said the universe.

The beep emitted from the locking car was all I heard over the rushing sound of water, along with a, "Shit. I'm so sorry."

I should have recognized the voice, but it had been years and I couldn't be faulted. I no longer remembered it like the palm of my hand.

I only heard that deep baritone in passing now, very occasionally.

Turning around slowly, the stranger – because that's all he was to me now – brusquely stood there looking dumbfounded at the sight of me.

His lips parted the slightest bit with an inhale.

If this were years ago, I would have laughed and extended my umbrella to shelter him from the weather.

But that was then and this is now, and the only thing I was busy sheltering was my battered heart and thrashed pride.

We watched each other through the curtain of rain, slowly drinking in the presence of each other.

"Teagan," he whispered.

Ever so slowly, my heart climbed short rungs until it lay at the base of my throat, making it difficult to swallow.

"Oliver," I whispered back.

His name carried off my tongue with a heaviness, despite being only three syllables.

We stared at each other for another few heartbeats, but time may have stopped. This felt like a lifetime.

Over the last months since my return to my hometown, I'd run into Oliver a handful of times, courtesy of being part of the same circle of friends. We remained civil and polite, never exchanging more than a few words. Because what was there to discuss? School? The latest hockey game? Those topics were insignificant to what lay wrecked between us.

We used to be like lightning and thunder. I led and Oliver always followed behind, hand in hand. Ironically, the downpour in which we stood frozen was a portrayal of our current states. The lightning came. But no clap of thunder was heard right away.

He and I were reduced to nothing. No longer on the same wavelength.

We used to be two people who could finish each other's sentences, feel the same emotions at the same time, and know when one desperately needed the other. We had the kind of connection that felt forged from steel; but, once broken, harbouring many cracks like a mirror.

I didn't know what he would say next. I didn't know what he felt. Nor did I nurture any false notions that he needed me.

Time had been kind to Oliver Abhay Ashford, but I wished I didn't have to be around to witness it.

Oliver's black shaggy hair was plastered to his skull and those tawny eyes were lit with an emotion I couldn't quite decipher. He was drenched: jeans hugged his powerful legs, and his shirt and black bomber clung to him like a second skin, highlighting every muscular plane.

That chiseled jaw of his, gently peppered with dark stubble, was clenched tight. His mouth pinched like a barrier for the words he struggled to tell me. Words that were a little too late. Words that would no doubt speak feelings regarding the last few years.

My own barrier was stronger, blocking hurtful words from penetrating. Sharp tongue. Thick skin. Four words defining me now. There was nothing he could say that would hurt me. I was past that shit – past allowing petty insults to nick me.

Then, that mouth loosened, and he spoke gruffly, "I'm sorry. I didn't see you."

Apparently, I didn't have the words either.

"Are you okay?" he intoned, gentler than before, a touch closer to my old Oliver.

But I had no right to any Oliver. Not anymore.

So I simply nodded, and his expression transformed. He chin-jutted in reply, and a mask of impassiveness once again blanketing him.

He didn't say goodbye to me. Instead, I watched as he carried his robust frame in the torrential rain towards Danny's Grill.

With a deep sign, I continued towards Le Petit Moulin.

***

Thursday evenings were slower paced, but I found myself preparing three cappuccinos, one vanilla latte, and one iced salted caramel coffee in the span of twenty minutes, while delivering a handful of mouth-watering patisseries.

Elisa Manning – my cousin who was lovingly referred to as Elsie or Els – saw my overwhelmed expression. She sauntered up to me with a motherly smile, looking like a pinup doll from the 50s, complete with a pink frilly apron, high heels, painted lips, big hair, and skimpy black dress that barely held her bustling chest – a blessing and curse for us Manning women. Elsie was a goofy ray of sunshine in this gloomy world. "Go take a five minute breather, ."

"My break is in an hour –"

"–Not your break, Tee. Just a quick breather. You look like you need it."

When she levelled me with her attempt at a scary look, my lips twitched, and I gave in. "All right. Be right back."

She waved me away and took over the cash register.

I all but ran to the back room. I noticed I had a message from Wyatt when I opened my locker and pulled out my phone.

How are you doing, Pretty Girl? – Wyatt

I smiled. He was never overly flirty or direct. Only sometimes.

I'm good, and yourself? 😊 – Teagan

I met Wyatt a few months back. He was one of the football players at the university, along with my childhood friend Trent. Because I wasn't one to play games, I never egged Wyatt on and kept it casual. He was nice enough to be respectful about it. He probably sensed that I wasn't emotionally ready to go there, or anywhere with anyone.

I heard Elsie coming to the back before I saw her. Her heels made a loud clacking sound to alert everyone in the vicinity that Le Petit Moulin's owner had arrived. Quickly, I shoved my phone back in my locker and slammed it shut.

"Hey." She twirled a piece of brown hair between her fingers, her eyebrows knitting. "I've got a question for you."

"Shoot."

She perched a curvy hip against the table, giving me a solemn expression that wasn't like her at all. "How's the apartment hunt going?"

I chuckled nervously. "Ah – it's going."

"Tee," she admonished softly. "You know, you don't have to go. You're more than welcome to stay with me as long as needed. In fact, I love having you there. We're family."

And that's exactly why I needed to leave. The thing with family was, even if they grew tired of you, they'd never say it out loud. They'd allow resentment to form until it was all channelled towards you in a painstaking way.

It happened with my parents. Eventually, they became vocal about it like everything else in my life. They acted as if I'd wronged them, as if I'd committed crimes worth paying the price.

It wasn't long before I realized I should have left a long time ago. So I did. To Boston.

My parents didn't try to fight me to stay – they simply hadn't cared. Again, the resentment was too strong.

Now I had to leave before I overstayed my welcome at Elsie's place. "I know, Els. I love you for it, but I've been back for almost four months. I need to leave."

She looked so genuinely sad that I wouldn't be staying with her. I was somewhat relieved at that. Elsie was the only family that hadn't given up on me...and my little sister.

"I'm going back to the floor," I said, giving her my polished fake smile. "I appreciate everything you do for me."

She blew me a kiss then plucked two macarons from the plate in her other hand. No wonder she had that ass. "Anytime, poupée."

***

With half an hour left to closing, a group of rowdy boys came through the doors.

Noah, my co-worker, began salivating.

The throng of jocks looked like they'd just won a game, from the way they spoke boisterously, to the way their bodies buzzed with reckless energy.

"I'm passing them. Shotgun," Noah hissed in my ear.

I raised my hands in surrender and sidestepped. "All yours."

I went to the glass displays and started cleaning the shelves and rearranging various pastries.

Noah did his thing, flirting and beaming at them as he worked his magic at the register.

It wasn't long before I felt eyes studying me. When I glanced up, a particular guy with a blond beard and bald head was watching me amongst the group.

Goosebumps began prickling over my skin like something crawled on top of me. His unnerving gaze made me feel uncomfortable in my own skin.

I made it a point to not allow the opposite sex to intimidate me, a trait I'd inherited from years of studying economics and being surrounded by too much testosterone. But this was different.

He nudged his other friend, then looked at me again. As if something dawned upon them, they conversed in hushed tones and nodded at each other.

My fingers started to shake a little and I nearly dropped the rag I was holding. It felt like they knew my dirty little secret, and they were sharing a smirk amongst themselves.

My stomach sunk. No, they couldn't. This was Vancouver. Not Boston. I left all that behind. Please, please, please, don't let it follow me.

I didn't need this. I didn't deserve it.

The line advanced and the guy with the blond beard and his younger-looking friend came forth.

Blond beard had a sheepish look. "Um, hi."

I swallowed. Sweat beaded at the back of my neck. "Hi."

"Not to make this weird, but..." Blond Beard laughed awkwardly. "Are you one of Jared and Trent's friends?"

Relief sucker punched through me, causing me to exhale roughly. "Yes. Yes, I am. Do I know you?"

My smile felt wobbly. They noticed, instantly trying to put me at ease. "We recognized you from Eastwood High School." Blond Beard said brightly. "I'm Shaun and this is Jamie."

"Nice to meet you guys," I said. Then, to diffuse any further tensity, I engaged them in a conversation.

I found out that we went to the same high school, and that they were now on a hockey team for the same university my friends attended. Shaun was a year older and Jamie was three years younger than me. They were super sweet and asked me about my day, as well as giving me a recap of the game they'd won tonight.

This exchange was a fierce reminder that not everyone was out to get me or know my secret.

I had to start lowering my guard and living my life.

How long was I going to allow one bad mistake – one that wasn't even my fault for shit's sake – to haunt me? Someone took advantage of my vulnerability, but that was not on me. Ever. If I lived in the past, how could I ever move forward in the present?

Boston was in my rear-view mirror. Vancouver is what I chased.

My shift ended. I was on garbage duty. While Elsie counted the cash and Noah mopped, I stepped into the cold air, hauling two black bags filled to the brim.

Once I threw them in the dumpster, I faced skyward. My eyes stung, followed by my throat closing up. I had this overwhelming urge to release my pent-up emotions and throw something at someone.

There was no one in sight and hurling a sharp object at said someone probably meant I'd spend the night behind bars, licking my wounds and laughing at my shitty fate. No one would even come bail me out. Sad truth.

So instead, I let out a loud, broken, and frustrated cry that bounced off the trees surrounding the lot and carried deep into the air so God could hear what I felt, what I'd been through and know why I was fucking exhausted.

A burst of wind caused the leaves in the trees to rustle in response, as if mocking me. A great reply. I couldn't even laugh.

There was no way to run away from your demons. They always caught up.

Unless you made peace with them.

Fat chance there. 

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A/N's: Thank you for the banners, Soph <3 In this story, Teagan is 21 and Oli is 22. This story will refer to Boundless Ties events occasionally when we revisit the past, but CC is not really based on it (dialogues wise at least, since BT was garbage and needs a lot of rewriting) - it can be read as a standalone. Though I encourage you to read Endless Bonds before this. 

What did you think of the first chapter? What do you think is Teagan's so-called secret? 

Twitter: MajestyMarzy

Instagram: queenmxrzy 

Chapter goal: 250? x