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“Don’t ever lose your heart, my baby.”
but in that moment, she was just a girl and he was just a boy, and somehow, their broken pieces matched.
The girl had somehow always been there, on the sides. Every week during his training with Vin, every time Zia spoke of her daughter, every time she quickly looked away whenever he glanced at her. She had always been there, and Dante had never noticed like a man never noticed the light of the sun until he went blind.
‘Fate is always weaving its threads, Dante. We just don’t see them until our eyes open.’
Her torture had been written on her skin and stained on her mind. And she hated who she was at that point—lost, adrift, clueless.
Some days, anger at herself made her want to do something drastic. Some days, the knife on the kitchen counter looked friendly. Some days, all she wanted was to let go, but only knowing how much the people around her would hurt stopped her every time.
“You need to find something or someone to live for,”
And while her lips were still famished for his, the ugliness inside her didn’t feel so ugly anymore.
“What if I get hurt?” she whispered into his jacket.
“Then, I’ll kiss your scars.”
A tear escaped her eye and Dante leaned in, kissing it from her cheek like he still had the right.
