UNFORSEEN DESTINY
Introduction
Regardless of what my feelings are,
I'd rather be your friend.
That's what I keep repeating in the mirror,
That's what I mean with every text that I send,
Not outwardly or openly in a way that's observed.
'Cause regardless of what my feelings are,
These feelings shall not be sent.
Chapter one
In the bustling city of New York, where skyscrapers touch the clouds and dreams are woven into the very fabric of its streets, technology rules the rhythm of daily life. Amidst this urban symphony, two souls navigate their vast worlds, seeking connection in a landscape dominated by lies and love.
Keziah Rosewood, a spirited librarian who seeks joy by immersing herself in knowledge, is one with things unforetold but surprisingly convenient to read on paper.
Keziah Rosewood stood tall at 5'7", her dark, mahogany skin reflecting a deep richness under the sunlight. Her face was framed by tightly coiled, dark brown curls that cascaded down her shoulders with a natural bounce. Her round cheeks carried a warm, inviting smile that contrasted with the intensity in her deep, almond-shaped eyes, which gleamed with a quiet determination. Keziah's full lips, often curved into a thoughtful expression, hinted at her introspective nature
Her figure was sturdy and strong, with a slight curvature that spoke of softness and resilience. Keziah moved with a graceful confidence, her presence commanding attention without demanding it. Her style blended comfort and practicality, often adorned with accessories that hinted at her love for cultural heritage and storytelling.
Desmond Winter, the enigmatic heir apparent to Winter Enterprises, stood tall at 6'1", his imposing figure commanding attention in any room he entered. His complexion was a warm olive, kissed by the sun, giving him an allure that bordered on dangerous. His face was chiseled with strong, angular features—high cheekbones that cast shadows in the right light, a straight nose that spoke of aristocratic lineage, and a jawline sharp enough to cut through the thickest of atmospheres.
His eyes, a piercing shade of deep emerald green, held a magnetic intensity that drew people in while simultaneously keeping them at arm's length. They were windows to a mind that calculated every move, revealing little of the emotions swirling beneath the surface. His dark hair, meticulously styled and effortlessly tousled, added to his aura of casual sophistication.
Desmond's physique was sculpted and athletic, honed from hours spent in the gym and on the field. His broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist, emphasizing his V-shaped torso. Beneath his tailored suits, the faint outline of well-defined abs hinted at his dedication to physical fitness. His arms were sinewy and strong, the muscles visible even under the fabric of his shirts.
He dressed impeccably, favoring tailored suits that accentuated his athletic frame. His attire, often in shades of charcoal or navy, was complemented by subtle yet luxurious accessories—a silver watch peeking out from beneath his cuff, cufflinks that gleamed under the light, and polished leather shoes that echoed his polished demeanor.
Despite his outward charm and polished appearance, there was an air of aloofness and guardedness about Desmond. His smiles were rare and often tinged with a hint of amusement or skepticism, as if he saw through the facades of those around him. He exuded an aura of privilege and entitlement, yet beneath it all lurked a vulnerability carefully shielded from the world.