She had ambitions that soared beyond the cage of her upbringing. Her dreams were simple yet profound: to find true love, chase her dream career, and break free from the shackles of her life. Yet, the day arrived when the cold hand of fate forced her...
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♫: #icanteven - The Neighborhood, French Montana.
☆彡
I love snow.
The thought brushes past me as I walk through the quiet streets. The snowflakes fall onto me, while the rest falls on the pavement.
I stuff my hands in my pockets, inhaling the fresh air through my nose as I feel his presence beside me.
Winter has always been my favorite season, even with all of the shit that happened to me, seeing the first snowfall of the year would bring me another type of joy. One that wasn't natural for me to feel.
Sophia used to remind me of snow, maybe that's why I like it so much. Ever since her passing, I started to convince myself that she was visiting me every time it snowed.
"Careful." His quiet voice sounds from beside me as he gently pulls me away from the loose pavement, wrapping his arm around my waist which sweeps me away from my thoughts.
I take a sharp breath as I suddenly feel his touch everywhere, on my waist, on my hands, in my head. Everywhere.
I start walking again, making his intoxicating touch go away.
My hand naturally falls out of the pocket, the fabric of the glove protecting my skin from the cold breeze and before I can put it back in, his fingers intertwine with mine.
"Caden." I groan, trying to shake his hand off- But his strength goes against mine, unfortunately. "I can't hold my wifes hand now?"
"You know damn well why you can't hold my hand." I retort back as I struggle against his hold. The corners of his mouth tip up as he gently squeezes my hand.
"Too bad." He murmurs, now looking in front of him as we roam through the cold streets. I decide to not fight him against this anymore, before my eyes fall on a particular store window.
It's a stunning bracelet, diamonds engraved along the small pearls as the light shines on it.
It must be expensive, given that the store barely sells anything above the millions. I shouldn't get it.
"You like it?" His voice sounds out from beside me, and I turn my head to him. I take a moment before nodding while my eyes narrow.
A familiar look forms on his face as he looks at it, and then I realize what he's planning to do.
"I'm lying. I hate it and I think it looks ugly." I say, quickening my pace as a low chuckle leaves his mouth.
After a few minutes, he speaks again. "How are your hands?" He mentions my injuries, again. I swallow before clearing my throat and answering, "They're getting better."
"Did they do anything else to you?" He asks, and I feel my chest tighten.
"I don't wanna talk about this." My voice comes out shallow with the attempt of changing the subject.
