Chapter 1: The Anatomy of a Wall
I’ve always been told that I’m difficult. In a world where girls my age are supposed to be "easy-going" and "fun," I was the girl with the invisible "Keep Out" sign taped to my chest.
Most guys at Uni look the same to me—loud, predictable, and desperate. When they try to move close, my skin crawls. My mind whispers words like nasty and hollow. I’ve walked away from dates feeling like I needed to scrub the very air off my skin. I thought I was broken. I thought maybe my childhood had just turned the lights out on that part of my heart for good.
But then there is Jojo.
He doesn’t feel like the others. He feels like a cool shadow on a burning day. For three years, he hasn't tried to "win" me; he has just tended to me. He is the Batman to my Gotham—the only person who knows the layout of my streets and doesn't mind the darkness in my alleys.
The day I told him I was leaving for two years, something shifted. The "Noble Protector" look in his eyes cracked, just for a second. I saw the sadness he tries so hard to hide behind his self-control.
"Are you really going?" he asked, his voice low, the kind of sound that makes the walls I built start to tremble.
He reached out, and for the first time in my life, I didn't want to pull away. I didn't feel the "nasty" chill. Instead, I felt a heat that started in my fingertips and ended in my soul. I realized then that I wasn't picky because I hated love—I was picky because I was waiting for the only person who could make me feel safe enough to fall.I won’t describe the moment our worlds finally collided. Some things are too sacred to be put into ink; some memories belong only to the shadows.All I will say is that for the first time, the 'nasty' noise in my head went silent. The disgust I usually felt for the world evaporated, replaced by a peace so heavy it made my knees weak. In his arms, I wasn't the 'picky girl' or the 'difficult' one. I was just a girl who had finally been found.But as he pulled away, the 'Protector' returned to his eyes. He apologized—his habitual 'sorry' cutting through the magic of the moment. He was already thinking of my future, of the two years of distance, of the 'freedom' he thought I needed.He thinks he’s saving me by letting me go. He doesn't realize that for Gotham, the only thing more terrifying than the villains is the thought of her Batman leaving the city behind."
