Bloodbound Hearts

Valentina

The afternoon sun spills golden and lazy through the tangled branches above, painting patterns on the cracked pavement where I’m pressed up against the brick wall behind the school. I’m eight years old again, heart pounding, hands trembling. I hear Enzo’s laughter before I see his face, sharp and mocking. He’s only ten, but already he knows exactly how to slice at my heart with words.

“What’s the matter, Valentina?” he sneers, stepping closer, cornering me between the rough brick and his cruel smile. “You gonna cry? Go ahead, crybaby. No one’s here to save you.”

My throat burns, but I clench my jaw tight. I won’t give him the satisfaction. Not again. But my eyes betray me, the tears gathering hot and heavy.

Just as Enzo reaches forward, maybe to shove me or yank my hair—I never find out—Luca appears. He’s thirteen and tall for his age, broad-shouldered, a shadow that blocks out the sun.

“Leave her alone, Enzo,” Luca says quietly, a threat hidden neatly beneath his calm tone. “How many times do we have to go over this?”

Enzo’s eyes narrow, irritation flickering in them. “We’re just playing around. She knows it’s just a joke. Right, Val?”

I bite my lip, unable to speak, shame burning my cheeks. Luca steps fully between us, turning to face Enzo head-on. His voice drops to a low growl, each word clear and measured.

“I won’t warn you again. She’s family. You protect family.”

Enzo hesitates, his defiance fighting his common sense, before finally backing down. “Whatever, Luca,” he mutters, pushing past his brother’s shoulder roughly as he leaves.

When Luca turns back to me, his gaze softens. He reaches out, gently wiping away the tears I’d fought so hard to hide.

“You okay, Valentina?” he asks softly, his voice warm with genuine concern.

I nod slowly, sniffing back any lingering sadness. “Thank you, Luca.”

He offers me a faint smile, kind but guarded. “I’ll always protect you. Remember that.”

I blink, and the memory dissolves like mist.

The glow of my phone screen glares in the dark room, harsh and unforgiving. My fingers tremble as I scroll through the messages—screenshots, photos, timestamps. All the proof I never wanted but should have seen coming. Her name is Sofia. And there are others. Texts laced with desire, photos that strip away every illusion I ever had about us.

Enzo. My first love. My childhood tormentor. My betrayer.

I should’ve known. I did know.

How could I have forgotten the way he used to smile just before he hurt me? That same smile I convinced myself meant love. I told myself he changed. That time softened his sharp edges.

But wolves don’t become lambs. They just learn how to hide their teeth.

I clutch the phone to my chest, breathing ragged, stomach twisting. I gave him over a decade of my life. My heart, my trust, my everything. And he gave it to someone else.

No. Not someone. Multiple.

The weight of that realization crushes me. The worst part? I still ache for the boy I thought he was. The boy I imagined him growing into. But that boy never existed. He never stopped being the one who pushed me down just to feel taller.

God, how did I not see it coming?

I don’t even remember grabbing my keys. My vision is a blur of red and betrayal as I storm out of my apartment, my phone clutched like a weapon in my fist. By the time I’m banging on Enzo’s front door, my whole body is shaking with rage.

He opens it, looking disheveled and confused, like he just woke up or had no idea his world was about to explode.

“Val? What the hell—”

I don’t wait. My hand moves before I can stop it. The crack of my palm against his cheek echoes in the foyer. His head jerks to the side, jaw tightening, nostrils flaring.

“You cheated on me,” I spit, voice breaking, tears already falling. “For how long, Enzo? How many? Was it ever real, or was I just your favorite game to play?”

His eyes flash with anger as he rubs his jaw. “You don’t get to put your hands on me like that.”

He steps forward suddenly, grabbing my wrists and pulling me toward him. Not hard, but firm enough to make my breath hitch.

“Let go of me!” I scream, struggling.

“Valentina, stop! Just—fuck—listen to me! I never meant to hurt you.”

I laugh bitterly through the tears. “You never meant? Enzo, I trusted you. I loved you since I was a kid, and you—”

“I made a mistake,” he says, voice low and tight. “A lot of them. But you’re the one I love.”

I shake my head, disgust and heartbreak battling inside me. “You don’t get to say that now. Not when you’ve been loving half the damn city behind my back.”

He lets go of my arms, jaw clenched like he wants to punch a wall. “You want to scream? Scream. But don’t pretend I never loved you.”

I don’t know whether to collapse or burn the house down. So I turn, wiping my tears with shaking fingers, and walk out the door before I do something I can’t take back.

He doesn’t stop me.

I make it home somehow, the drive a blur. The second the door clicks shut behind me, I fall apart.

My knees hit the hardwood floor. I don’t even make it to the couch. My sobs echo through the empty apartment, ragged and raw, tearing from a place so deep I didn’t know it existed.

My phone buzzes. I ignore it. It buzzes again. And again. Finally, I force myself to look.

Nina.

My best friend.

I swipe to answer, barely able to form words. “Hey.”

“Val? What happened? Are you okay?”

That simple question unravels me all over again. I choke out a sob. “He cheated on me, Nina. For years. I found everything. Photos. Texts. All of it.”

“Oh my god, babe. I’m coming over. Right now. Don’t argue.”

I don’t. I can’t.

Twenty minutes later, she walks through the door like a hurricane of comfort—blanket in one arm, takeout bags in the other.

“I got Thai. And three different kinds of ice cream. And wine.”

She doesn’t ask for details. She doesn’t need to. She just sits beside me on the couch, hands me a container of noodles, and queues up one of our favorite old rom-coms.

We cry. We laugh. We yell at the characters. And for a little while, I remember what it feels like to be loved the right way.

Not by a man.

But by someone who actually shows up when it matters.

We’re halfway through our second movie, surrounded by takeout containers and half-melted pints of ice cream, when there’s a knock at the door.

Nina and I freeze.

“Don’t,” I whisper. But it’s too late. I already know who it is.

Another knock. Firmer this time.

I rise slowly, my body aching from the weight of everything. I open the door to find Enzo standing there, his eyes bloodshot, like he’s been crying or drinking—or both.

“Valentina,” he breathes. “Please. Just talk to me.”

“No,” I say, firm and steady. “There’s nothing left to say.”

“I fucked up. I know I did. But we’ve been through too much—”

I cut him off. “You don’t get to use our history to excuse what you did. You shattered everything.”

He steps forward slightly, desperation bleeding from his voice. “I’ll fix it. I swear to God, Val. I’ll do anything.”

“The only thing you can do for me now is leave me the hell alone.”

Silence stretches between us. His mouth opens, then closes. He nods, jaw clenched.

“You mean that?”

“I do.”

I close the door before he can say another word.

Nina is waiting on the couch, her eyes wide.

“Is it over?”

I collapse beside her, grabbing the wine bottle and taking a long sip.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “It’s finally over.”