Tom Riddle, the son of the Dark Lord, has always been burdened by the weight of his lineage, destined to follow in his father's footsteps as the heir to a reign of terror. Yet, in Rosie Hart, he found a glimmer of hope-a love that made him dream of...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
🖤🖤
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THE STREETS OF LONDON WERE BUSTLING WITH ACTIVITY, THE CRISP OCTOBER AIR CARRYING WITH IT THE SCENET OF RAIN THAT THREATENED TO FALL AT ANY MOMENT.
Rosie pulled her coat tighter around herself, the cold doing little to dampen the nervous energy buzzing inside her. She had turned nineteen today, a fact that should have filled her with joy and excitement, but instead, she felt an anxious weight in her chest.
It had been nearly eight months since she'd last seen Tom Riddle. The memories of their last encounter were still painfully vivid—the night he had proposed, and she had turned him down. Her refusal had nothing to do with her love for him, but rather the secrets she harboured, the darkness she'd been forced to endure. She couldn't drag him into her broken world, couldn't let him see the shattered pieces of herself she barely managed to keep together.
But now, after months of torment and countless sleepless nights, she was ready to see him again. Ready to explain, even if she could never truly reveal everything. There was one secret she had vowed never to speak of—the secret of her daughter, Jazzlyn, who had been ripped away from her, a living reminder of the nightmare she had been forced to endure. Tom could never know; it was a burden she would carry alone.
Rosie took a deep breath as she reached the small café where they had agreed to meet. The door chimed softly as she entered, the warmth and smell of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. Her eyes scanned the room, and there he was, sitting at a corner table, his back straight, his dark eyes focused on the doorway as if he'd been watching for her the entire time.
Her heart skipped a beat. Even after all this time, he still had the same effect on her. Tom was as striking as ever—tall, with sharp features that were almost too perfect to be real. His hair was longer now, brushing the collar of his coat, and there was a calm, calculating intensity in his gaze that hadn't been there before. He was no longer the boy she had known at Hogwarts; he was a man now, with all the power and command that came with it.
Rosie hesitated for only a moment before making her way over to him, her footsteps soft against the wooden floor. When she reached the table, he looked up, and for the briefest second, she saw something flicker in his eyes—relief, perhaps, or something deeper, something he would never admit to feeling.
