[ A WATTPAD FEATURED STORY ]
•••
❝We accept the love we think we deserve.❞
But what does that really mean?
This is Eva's story; a tale of a wayward girl who had a heart of glass and when it broke, forgot that light tends to creep in through the cr...
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Caroline’s eyes zeroed in on the reddish patch of skin on her upper cheek.
This couldn’t be happening, she told herself in her head for the third time that night. But of course it was happening— she saw no point in denying it to herself. It was only obvious she fell right into the same trap as she had with Tristan. Everything always changed after the marriage.
Because there was no more need to keep up with the pretences. The façade.
And Care wondered why fell for the mask every damn time.
Her hand shook slightly as her fingers rose to touch the sensitive skin. But she froze, stopping midway when her eyes found the reflection of the grey ones she’d fallen in love with last year, on the vanity mirror above her dresser.
Logan stood there, staring at her for a whole minute, unspeaking, before carefully shutting the door behind him.
He sighed and knelt in front of the dresser’s stool where she was sat, his tall frame allowing him to remain at eye-level with her. Taking her hands gently in his, he kissed them tenderly.
His actions, his grip— ever so gentle and cautious that it made the bruise on Care’s cheek almost non-existent. Except that it was there. And even if the bruise were to fade and not leave a scar behind, the pain would undoubtedly serve as a constant reminder.
Reminder that she fell for it again. Men like him were a glowing fire, shining so bright it blinded her from all signs of caution. And she— oh, she was the stupid, gullible moth.
She saw the flames— the light, went after it, even. She just never remembered it burnt too.
---
Care woke up to the strong smell of caffeine attacking her nose.
Squinting and struggling to open her eyes, she finally gained clarity in her vision, her gaze settling on the steaming mug of coffee beside the plate of toast and scrambled eggs.
A small wave of warmth washed through her but the smile was supressed as her eyes landed on the person responsible for the surprise breakfast-in-bed.
He smiled and the world began spinning under her feet. It was like seeing an angel in the flesh.
But how could she let herself feel that way when just last night he’d been the furthest thing to an angel and the closest to a devil?
She’d fallen for those eyes— those incredibly deep grey eyes. She’d sworn to herself she felt like there was a storm brewing behind them when she first looked into those orbs. And now she knew she’d been right.
The storm wasn’t a burning passion though. It was just a ball of rage and hatred and insecurities in the form of lightning bolts, waiting to strike whenever there was a dark cloud hanging over them. Whenever the situation got out of hand or Logan was having a bad day.
