Page 38 of Bastian

Because I will.

I will heal her heart and do what I should’ve done the first time around.

I will give the woman of my dreams… forever.

Even if I die trying or she kills me, whichever comes first, but knowing her? I’m leaning toward the latter.

ARIANNA

FIRST DAUGHTER

“I’ll be my own redemption.” — A

I once thought it was scientifically impossible for a heart to break. Explode? Yes? Stop in your chest? That, too. Hell, even a medically broken heart can occur. It’s rare, but it’s possible. But break into a million tiny bleeding pieces and still function properly? No. It was just not factual, but then I thought a lot of things were impossible, yet they happened to me.

Scientifically the organ in my chest is beating strong and healthy, or that is what my doctor says. For a while now, I’ve been experiencing symptoms that resemble that of a heart attack, so I took my ass to the doctor just so he could tell me that there was nothing wrong with me.

Absolutely nothing.

But I know better.

My heart broke when love betrayed me. When the man I loved failed me and I had to pick up not only my pride but the shattered remains of my heart off the ground.

Dramatic? Very much so.

One of the many things I turned into after leaving yet another city and all that I once loved behind for the second time in my life. How tragic.

But now… now, it feels different.

I felt out of breath the second my eyes laid on the President of the United States, looking so annoyingly good-looking with his tuxedo, perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect fucking face.

Perfect.

That’s the image Sebastian Kenton portrays to the world and I fell for it.

Christ, did I fall hard.

My mistake.

One I won’t be making twice.

Because now I hate him with all that is left of me.

With everything bad and ugly.

But I find myself hating myself too because the second he stood there answering questions looking like the picture of perfection and morality, my chest panged, and my breath got caught in my throat, and for a second, I was back to a time when I was just a girl who fell for a larger-than-life man. Just a girl who finally found a home in the arms of someone who made every bad thing that ever happened to her fade away.

And it hurts.

I didn’t anticipate that seeing him would hurt this much, and it is infuriating.

And as much as seeing him again not through the media lenses but through my eyes, hurts. Nothing hurts more than watching all I ever wanted, standing a few feet away from me, taunting me with the what-ifs.

What if he didn’t lie?

What if he would’ve pulled me closer instead of tossing me aside?

So many what-ifs.

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