Hearts Aglow 💛
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- Parts 5
Little did I know that one rainy day, one impossible moment, would make me question everything I thought I knew. That love could awaken something real. Something golden. Something glowing.
That my very own fairy was about to begin.
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Strawberry
A scent. A scar. A slow-burning fucking romance dressed as nostalgia. It started with a fruit. Not love, not sex - a goddamn strawberry. The kind that looks like it's been kissed by every shade of red your childhood never had. He didn't share it. Didn't speak of it. Just tasted it once, and carried the ache ever since. Years later, she walked in - smelling exactly like that forgotten sweetness. Not perfume. Not fantasy. Just... truth. Sharp, quiet, terrifying truth. The kind that crawls under your skin and whispers remember me when you least want to. He lied to her face. About himself. About the million ways he'd already started unraveling. But she knew. Women like her always know. She stared at him like sin dressed in judgment - and touched his wrist like she already owned his pulse. And he? He was fucked. Because she wasn't just beautiful. She was red. That memory. That craving. And no matter how much he pretended to be in control - she was already in his bloodstream. This isn't a love story. It's a slow possession. By scent. By memory. By her. And it ends exactly how it starts - with him on his knees, and her smelling like fucking strawberries.Complete
Hereafter, Yours
I looked outside; the sun had set but the light remained. That little moment when the light still covers the sky before night swallows it up, that tiny moment in time is when the sky truly looks majestic. I feel the same way, this little time before the night takes me away. Everything that begins will end somehow, somewhere... "Will my end be just an end?" He asked himself, Little did he know, his end was only the beginningComplete
A Twist Of Hope
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I Never Told You But It Was Always You
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Save Me
I was drowning. I knew that. I also knew that the hands around my throat, pushing me deeper into the river water was the cause. What I didn't know was who was drowning me and why. It hurt thinking. It hurt to do anything right now. But I still screamed under the cold water and pushed the hands away as hard as I could. It didn't have much effect. I fought and fought, but I was getting weaker, and colder. The pain was overbearing. I couldn't breathe. It was the worst pain imaginable; and as the hands that were around my neck were forcibly ripped off by some unknown force, I slipped deeper into the depths of the river. My hair was straight above me along with my arms. My eyes were open and the water burned. A darkness started to pull me under, taking the pain away. I felt a small pressure around my waist, before the darkness completely consumed me. The last thing I remember is thinking, save me.Complete
My Best Accident I (IN PRINT)
Why must we always dream of fairy tales? Why do we insist on thinking everything will be perfect? Why do we limit ourselves to imagining only moments of joy and not of sadness? We live in a world where perfection is an illusion, where those who seem perfect reveal themselves to be deeply flawed. We cling to dreams of eternal happiness, believing we can escape pain and disappointment. But is that really true? Everything changed the day I met him. He was my greatest danger-the boy I fell madly in love with from the first moment I saw him... from a distance. His presence disrupted my world, and I realized that true magic doesn't lie in perfection but in imperfection.With him, I experienced a whirlwind of intense emotions, from the purest joy to the deepest sorrow. I learned that love isn't about avoiding suffering, but about finding someone who is worth facing those challenges for. Because in those moments of sadness, I discovered strength within myself and in our relationship.That's how I came to understand that fairy tales are not perfect; they are filled with trials and hardships. And it is precisely that struggle that makes them real and meaningful. True love isn't a path without obstacles-it's a journey in which both people grow and become stronger together.Complete
A scent. A scar. A slow-burning fucking romance dressed as nostalgia. It started with a fruit. Not love, not sex - a goddamn strawberry. The kind that looks like it's been kissed by every shade of red your childhood never had. He didn't share it. Didn't speak of it. Just tasted it once, and carried the ache ever since. Years later, she walked in - smelling exactly like that forgotten sweetness. Not perfume. Not fantasy. Just... truth. Sharp, quiet, terrifying truth. The kind that crawls under your skin and whispers remember me when you least want to. He lied to her face. About himself. About the million ways he'd already started unraveling. But she knew. Women like her always know. She stared at him like sin dressed in judgment - and touched his wrist like she already owned his pulse. And he? He was fucked. Because she wasn't just beautiful. She was red. That memory. That craving. And no matter how much he pretended to be in control - she was already in his bloodstream. This isn't a love story. It's a slow possession. By scent. By memory. By her. And it ends exactly how it starts - with him on his knees, and her smelling like fucking strawberries.
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