All Chapters of What Remains of Us: Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

9 Chapters

Chapter 1

Six years after our divorce, I ran into Owen Hughes again—at a police station.I was there to pick up my father's belongings. He was the newly appointed young sheriff.Just as everyone was toasting his new marriage, our eyes met across the room. Neither of us spoke.Until I turned to leave, and his voice came low behind me:"Aubrey—are you still hate me?"I shook my head.He'd gone from bodyguard to undercover hero. I'd gone from heiress to nobody with a new name and a quiet life.I think I was mad. Once.But only love breeds hate.And six years later? I don't love him anymore.A young officer didn't catch the tension. "What're you here for? I can help you with—"I held up the paperwork and cut him off. "Already handled it."And walked straight out.Funny thing—we'd met here twice. Second time was today, the reunion.First time was the day my father got arrested.Owen caught my sleeve, made me stop."You doing okay?"Such a basic, predictable line.I looked at the new wedding band on h

Chapter 2

At sixteen, I was kidnapped by a rival family.I managed to escape at night—only to find myself in the middle of a slum. Trash and cigarette butts everywhere, sewer rats squeaking in the dark. Under a flickering streetlamp, a drunk stumbled into my path.Then a boy pulled me behind him, shielding me.It was Owen. Eighteen years old.He wore a faded black T-shirt, washed so many times it had gone thin. His arms were lean and strong. When he took a bottle to the head for me, he didn't even let out a grunt.Back then, I had no idea it was a setup. I thought it was just a classic case of a girl falling for her hero.So I turned to my father when he showed up and said: "You said you'd get me a bodyguard? I want him.""Bodyguard" was just a title. Back then, Owen had nothing but his strength. I needed an excuse to keep him close.My father liked him too. Said the kid had a fire in his eyes—he'd go far.And Owen delivered. Two years later, we got into the same college together. The day he got

Chapter 3

The wedding photos had been circulating in our class group chat for days.The bride, no surprise, was Riley.My closest friend from college.She came from a small village, plain-looking, always in thick glasses. Studied like her life depended on it. Fierce pride. When a professor mocked her accent for smelling like dirt, her face burned red—but she never bowed her head.I was the one who reached out first. Invited her into Owen's and my study group.Maybe it was their similar backgrounds. The same core of who they were.They clicked. Or maybe—they were just cut from the same cloth.The cheap food I couldn't stomach? They both loved it. The bright, colorful clothes I gravitated toward? They both preferred dark, wash-and-wear black shirts. When we had to pick between two project topics, they'd always silently choose the other one at the same time.But every interaction between them had me in the middle. They kept their distance, never crossed a line. So it never crossed my mind—not even

Chapter 4

Maybe my brain just shut down to protect itself.I got sick. Spaced out. Lost in my own head.Maybe out of pity, Owen didn't file the paperwork to annul our marriage. Instead, he took two months off and dragged me to doctors.Therapy—I sat there mute. Meds—I wouldn't open my mouth. Eventually, they strapped me down for ECT. The shock therapy. Messes with your brain, leaves permanent damage. Which is why I can't hold a pencil to draw anymore.Back then, I didn't want to get better. I'd already hidden a razor blade behind the bathroom mirror. The day my father got sentenced, I'd be done.Owen was furious. He pried my jaw open and forced the pills down my throat."Think you're still some pampered princess? Grow up and stop being such a brat."I used to throw a fit every time I had to take medicine. And Owen would always coax me, patient as ever: "Come on, just swallow it and I'll give you candy."This time, no candy.The second he let go, I threw it all back up.Owen lost it. Just stood t

Chapter 5

I said yes, exchanged a few more words, and hung up.Turned to Jordan with a smile. "See? Besides taking away my ability to draw, ECT has another major side effect—my memory's shot."I said it like I was commenting on the weather.Jordan looked like he was about to cry. "Aubrey... I've seen your old designs. It's such a waste."Drawing—I had talent for it. And I loved it. Got into one of the top design firms right out of school. Never got to shine before it all fell apart.I could've transferred to another department. But Riley's anonymous complaint killed that too.Jordan sniffled. "You don't want to see him again, do you? I can go pick it up for you.""It's fine." I closed my eyes. "There's something else I need to get back from him anyway."My old portfolio from school. Owen had begged me for it back then, said he wanted to frame it and keep it.Now I think—what a waste. Giving it to him.He picked the spot. The pedestrian street near our old college. The cake shop at the end of the

Chapter 6

Four years ago, I moved to that tiny town, determined to start over. But "starting over" is easier said than done.Riley's social media was a constant parade of perfection—safaris in Africa, handmade rings, cutesy couple avatars, trips back to her hometown to visit the elderly with Owen by her side. The news was plastered with Owen's heroics. Even the corner store cashier couldn't stop talking about the biggest undercover takedown in a decade.When you're at rock bottom, you hate everything.I hate Owen for his cruelty. Hate my father for his stupidity. Hate this rotten world. Hate myself for being so weak.I shut myself in. Wasted away. A bag of noodles in the fridge lasted a week. When I was thirsty, I'd cup my hand under the tap. I'd lie there staring at the peeling ceiling, from pitch black to dawn.My weight plummeted to under ninety pounds.Owen reached out once. For Riley.She'd apparently mentioned she envied a bracelet I had back in college—wanted to know the brand.His tone w

Chapter 7

The memory faded. Back to the present.Riley showed up while I was fixing Jordan's collar.She stormed straight in, her heels clicking sharp and grating against the floor. She'd ditched the glasses by now, shed all that small-town plainness—dressed to kill, every detail polished.But as a photographer, I could see the exhaustion caked under all that heavy foundation.Her eyes landed on my hands—the ones currently undoing Jordan's shirt buttons. It was for a shoot. Ad campaign. Cold, restrained aesthetic."So this is your little boy toy? Can't get enough men, can you? Still chasing after someone else's husband?"Before I could say a word, Jordan's face went cold. "Watch your mouth—"He looked ready to throw a punch. I pressed him back down by the shoulder. Couldn't have that. The whole shoot was built around that icy, stoic vibe. And honestly? Jordan in this mood? Probably gonna give me some killer shots.I raised my camera and started firing, shutter clicking nonstop.Riley, ignored an

Chapter 8

I shook my head. "Of course not.""But I checked—you're not even married!"He said it so casually, like abusing his authority was nothing.My eyes dropped to his ring finger—bare now, but the indent was still there. "No. But you are.""It can end!"He twisted my meaning, stepped forward urgently, reaching for my hand. I pulled back, hiding it behind me."No. What I mean is—you're married. So keep yourself in check. And keep your wife in check. Tell her to stop coming after me.""She came to you?"At the mention of Riley, something cold flickered across Owen's eyes. The same cold I'd seen six years ago—aimed at me."Back then, she told me I didn't love you. That I was just in too deep, lost in the act. But I've come to realize—the lie was fake. The heart was real.""I tortured myself for six years. Thought you'd never come back. Thought you'd never forgive me. So I gave up. Said yes to her. But last time we met—you said you didn't hate me. It's been years. Can't we just start over?"His

Chapter 9

Jordan stormed in to wake me up, his face twisted with rage. His knuckles were scraped raw.I grabbed the first-aid kit and started cleaning him up. "Who'd you fight?"A cocky grin tugged at his lips. "Rolled up and saw Owen standing at your door. Dragged him into the alley. How's that—got your revenge for you."I deliberately pressed the iodine swab harder into his wound. "If he'd actually fought back, you'd be a mess right now. And I need that pretty face of yours to make money."Jordan thought about it, then it clicked. "No wonder. Dude just stood there like a zombie, didn't even raise a hand. Shame you didn't see it—I beat him into a pulp, hahaha."I did see it. A few days later.Jordan had definitely exaggerated. Other than some fading bruises on his brow and a split on his lip, Owen looked fine.He showed up in full dress uniform—sharp, pressed, every inch the sheriff."Could you take a photo of me? My headshots are years old. Time for an update."Money's money. I agreed, guided

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