[Book #2 in the Nystrom series.]
[Check tws before reading]
[Dual pov]
I push the feeling away and ultimately concentrate my gaze on his upper body, which still bears the traces of my lipstick. "You did not remove them?" He smirks and closes the boo...
I hope yall are having a good day even though Rowan doesn't exist :/ I love him, man.
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- AMAYA'S POV -
The ability to forgive seemed to be a gift from the cosmos, a sensation that released dopamine in the person's brain. But it could also be tricky, give you hope, and then when you least expect it, crush your heart. It hurts because forgiveness is a choice, which is presumably why it happens.
Although someone may accept your forgiveness, their memory of your betrayal will never be obliterated.
I was raised to believe that feelings were harmful and should not be allowed in. Despite the fact that I never used drugs, I can relate to the same feeling that hope gives—It was something addicting. The most addicting of all.
It had been a day since everything fell apart and Rowan's faith in me started to wane.
I texted him just in case he picked up his phone, but even though he was receiving my texts, he would ignore them.
When I tell myself that I am not alone, my thoughts remain grounded in reality. This morning, Sora visited my house after I informed her about the cryptic surprise I received.
"What happens when the angel can't keep his eyes off the devil? He burns," Sora examines the paper in the box, which I had barely touched before swearing never to do so again. One ordinary piece of paper contains enough memories to poison my already damaged mind.
"And you think mom wrote it?" I nod as my younger sister raises her eyes and casts a perplexed glance my way. "Who else would it be? He burns. It is logical that she is the one who wrote it. Let's not forget that she is infuriated because of me."
Sora sighs, "Amaya," When she whispers my name, I hum, but I can feel her tense up. "She might have sent this, but this isn't her handwriting."
I frown at her words, "Then whose is it–," I pause and take another glance at the letters scribbled on the paper as my sentence is cut short. We both know our mother does not write in cursive due to the fact that they are written in red with cursive lettering.
I was in too much of a frenzy to really examine the writing—I immediately assumed my mother was to blame.
"It's Hiro's handwriting," Sora confirms both of our presumptions, and I can not help but feel my limbs getting weaker by the minute.
There is no way. No way. He would not. "No, there probably is a reason behind it," I mutter while turning the paper over as if there could be more writing there—I find myself yearning for a hidden message, a clue that he was forced to write it and was not the evil person my imagination had made him out to be.
