table for four (sequel to coffee on lexington avenue)
  • LECTURAS 2,126
  • Votos 28
  • Partes 8
  • Hora 5h 30m
  • LECTURAS 2,126
  • Votos 28
  • Partes 8
  • Hora 5h 30m
ContinΓΊa, Has publicado may 19, 2024
(Sequel to Coffee on Lexington Avenue)

Neither Pippa nor Evie have stepped foot in Lexington Avenue in a little over a year now. 

Between Pippa going back to work, the kids, and Evie starting classes at the NYU school of medicine, there just never was any time. Still though, they had breakfasts together at their home, as much as they could, at their table now set for four. Pippa thought this was better than the Sub Rosa anyway- the coffee, at least, didn't taste like dog shit. Of course, this all starts to change when a new place is set at the table.
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Behind Closed Doors de _Avaleigh
55 Partes Concluida
New York City-buzzing with life, ambition, and stories waiting to unfold. In a modest apartment building on the Upper West Side, two lives ran parallel yet barely intersected. Phillipa Soo, a struggling actress with dreams too big for her reality, lived in a small, cluttered studio adorned with playbills and half-filled notebooks. Just across the hall resided Lin-Manuel Miranda, the award-winning writer whose name sparkled in the marquee lights of Broadway theaters. Every morning, their routines briefly overlapped: a polite nod in the hallway, a brief smile at the elevator. Phillipa admired Lin's success from afar, while Lin recognized her as the quiet neighbor with a determined glint in her eye. They were familiar strangers, comfortable in their distance. Until one night. The clock struck midnight as Lin trudged up the stairs, exhausted after hours of rewriting his latest script. The silence of the building was broken by the muffled sound of sobbing. Frowning, Lin followed the noise and found Phillipa, slumped against her door, her face buried in her hands. "Phillipa?" he asked, his voice soft but urgent. "Are you okay?" Startled, she looked up, her tear-streaked face betraying every worry she had tried to hide. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "Everything's wrong." Lin crouched down beside her, concern etched across his face. "Tell me," he said. And she did. Under the dim hallway light, she spilled her fears-the auditions she never got, the rent she barely made, the weight of chasing dreams in a city that didn't seem to care. For the first time, Phillipa let someone see the cracks in her armor. And for the first time, Lin listened-not as the acclaimed writer, but as a neighbor, a friend. That night, amidst quiet words and shared vulnerability, the invisible wall between them began to crumble.
𝟏 | π’π”π‚πŠ πˆπ“ 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄 ━ Remus Lupin de MysticPsyche_
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Slide 1 of 10
Behind Closed Doors cover
𝟏 | π’π”π‚πŠ πˆπ“ 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄 ━ Remus Lupin cover
[Without you] /Lippa/ cover
Wait For It cover
Ten Days ⊰Philidosia⊱ (βœ“) cover
flipped | lippa cover
You Outshine the Morning Sun cover
Love And Lattes [DISCONTINUED] cover
BOOM! || Lippa cover
Seeing You Again cover

Behind Closed Doors

55 Partes Concluida

New York City-buzzing with life, ambition, and stories waiting to unfold. In a modest apartment building on the Upper West Side, two lives ran parallel yet barely intersected. Phillipa Soo, a struggling actress with dreams too big for her reality, lived in a small, cluttered studio adorned with playbills and half-filled notebooks. Just across the hall resided Lin-Manuel Miranda, the award-winning writer whose name sparkled in the marquee lights of Broadway theaters. Every morning, their routines briefly overlapped: a polite nod in the hallway, a brief smile at the elevator. Phillipa admired Lin's success from afar, while Lin recognized her as the quiet neighbor with a determined glint in her eye. They were familiar strangers, comfortable in their distance. Until one night. The clock struck midnight as Lin trudged up the stairs, exhausted after hours of rewriting his latest script. The silence of the building was broken by the muffled sound of sobbing. Frowning, Lin followed the noise and found Phillipa, slumped against her door, her face buried in her hands. "Phillipa?" he asked, his voice soft but urgent. "Are you okay?" Startled, she looked up, her tear-streaked face betraying every worry she had tried to hide. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "Everything's wrong." Lin crouched down beside her, concern etched across his face. "Tell me," he said. And she did. Under the dim hallway light, she spilled her fears-the auditions she never got, the rent she barely made, the weight of chasing dreams in a city that didn't seem to care. For the first time, Phillipa let someone see the cracks in her armor. And for the first time, Lin listened-not as the acclaimed writer, but as a neighbor, a friend. That night, amidst quiet words and shared vulnerability, the invisible wall between them began to crumble.