Writings & Worlds
Poetry, Romance, and the Echoes of Broken Gears
Poetry, Romance, and the Echoes of Broken Gears
A Romantic Series · Three Books · 2025
Unravelled follows Alex and Maya as they move from a single charged glance across a university lecture hall into the long, uneven work of loving each other through old wounds, distance, and the ordinary weight of days. The series moves in three parts: the first meeting and the slow unravelling of defenses; the middle stretch of memory, absence, and return; and the long way home.
Alex knows grief—the kind that lingers like a shadow. Maya knows survival—the kind that demands walls so high nothing soft can get through. Neither believes in second chances, until their lives collide and the cracks in their armor begin to show.
Unravelled: Part I
They have begun to find a rhythm. Ordinary days, small detours, a night spent off the map in a seaside town. Then something arrives that neither of them is prepared for, and the space between what is said and what is carried grows wider. The dead leave questions, and questions can become threats. Sometimes the only way through is to survive long enough to understand what happened. Absence has a way of clarifying what was never spoken. So does return.
Unravelled II
Years later the shapes have changed. Alex works behind a desk with floor-to-ceiling windows. Dan still keeps the old ease alive. The memory of what once was still haunts Alex in the silence. When fate comes calling, the struggle becomes whether to keep living with what has already been lost, or answer the slower question of what should be. Some journeys take the long way home.
Unravelled III
Athletic, dark-curled, coffee-brown eyes that give little away. He grew up in a house of arguments and learned early to keep most things locked down. Later he appears as Alexander Michaels, moving through professional rooms with the same careful steadiness.
Long ebony hair, almond eyes lit with mischief and something quieter. She carries herself as if slightly removed from the noise around her. She recognizes the particular kind of unraveling that does not show itself as collapse.
Alex’s constant. Easy grin, tousled hair, the one who keeps structure in place when everything else begins to slip. In later years he still occupies the guest chair, spinning a pen, refusing to let the old ease disappear entirely.
From the opening of Splinters And Stitches: