Crimson Lips

Crimson Roseanne Rosales was named after the very thing that ruined her.
Red-burning, bleeding, breaking her into pieces she never managed to gather back. Even her name feels like a cruel, inescapable curse, a reminder of wounds that never truly closed. One flash of blood, one streak of crimson, and the past she's tried to bury comes clawing to the surface.
She's learned to run. To hide. To survive.
Until him.
A stranger glimpsed through a screen-his face shadowed by a hoodie and mask, his hair a violent red that should have shattered her. Yet when he moves-when his fingers skim across guitar strings or his body loses itself in the music-Crimson feels something sharp and unfamiliar stirring inside her.
Hope.
Longing.
The terrifying hunger to feel alive again.
She doesn't know his name. She doesn't know his story.
But somehow, he sees her-the broken girl too afraid to bleed.
Falling for him might tear her open all over again.
But maybe, just maybe, facing the color she's feared her whole life is the only way she'll ever learn to heal.
In the spaces between pain and surrender, Crimson is about to find out: sometimes, the only way out of the darkness... is through it.