Chapter 1
At first glance, you'd never know the storms I've weathered. My scars aren't visible, but they've knitted themselves into the very fabric of my being. Stitched behind my eyelids, they unfurl every night when I close my eyes, a cruel reminder that some things are impossible to forget.
I've been forged from fire, ice, and a whole lot of bullshit. I've become someone shaped by circumstances I never necessarily chose. But let's be honest: after everything, I'm not sure I'd change a thing. So much of it was never really up to me. They were simply the cards I was dealt, and I've learned to play the hand.
Time has taught me some valuable lessons, none of which I'll be forgetting anytime soon. Yet, in the quiet hours of the night, when my heart and mind finally decide to work together, it's his name that sends my pulse racing faster than any painful memory ever could.
Javier.
His name feels like a whispered prayer.
I'm not even sure he knows I exist, but every part of me seems convinced that he does. Our eyes locked for one brief moment as we passed each other at the gym, and somehow, that was all it took. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't spent a significant amount of time cyber-sleuthing this fine man. A little harmless curiosity never hurt anyone, right?
That is, until my drunk of an uncle came home more sloshed than usual.
He launched into his usual drunken tirade about how raising me had ruined his life.
Me too, buddy. Me too.
As if this is the life I dreamed of having when I was a little girl. As if this was ever what I imagined growing up would look like.
What I wouldn't give to have my parents and older brother still on this side of the earth.
But they were cruelly ripped away from me in a car accident caused by a drunk driver. Somehow, I walked away with little more than a few scratches, while everything I had ever known was left in pieces.
Funny how life works, isn't it? One minute, you're surrounded by the people you love, making plans for a future you assume is guaranteed. The next, you're standing in the wreckage, wondering how the hell you're supposed to keep breathing when the people who made your world worth living in are gone.
Dear Druncle took me in after that fateful day.
And before anyone gets the wrong idea, I am grateful. I really am. I've heard the foster care system isn't exactly a walk in the park, and I'm well aware that things could have turned out differently.
But let me tell you something: living with a resentful relative who seems to consider your very existence an inconvenience isn't exactly sunshine and rainbows either.
Still, here I am.
Somewhere between surviving the past, tolerating the present, and occasionally obsessing over a ridiculously handsome man with hazel eyes, I'm trying to figure out what the hell comes next.
