All Chapters of When His Childhood Sweetheart Walked Away: Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

That night, I pulled an empty carton from my closet and began gathering the things Lorenzo had given me over the years.Books, records, small charms from family trips, and the music box he had bought after my first eye surgery all went into a large carton. I packed each item carefully, then placed the birthday present I had prepared for him on top.The next morning, I took the box to the Valenti estate.Lorenzo’s mother, Aunt Victoria, opened the door.“Serena, come in.” She took my hand and guided me through the foyer. “The sun is so strong today. Why did you come alone? You should have let us send a driver.”“I wore my sunglasses.” I smiled. “And I know the way.”Lorenzo called down from upstairs but did not come out.“That boy has been shut in his room all morning,” Aunt Victoria complained. She glanced at the box in my arms. “Is all that for him?”“Some of it is.”She smiled as though she understood. “Go on upstairs. Tell the kitchen if you want anything.”I carried the box to Lore

The table erupted in teasing.Underneath it, I clasped my hands together. I did not want Lorenzo to feel cornered, and I was about to answer for him when he spoke first.“Don’t be ridiculous.” His voice was calm, with no deliberate cruelty in it. “Serena and I grew up together. Her father has always worked for my family.”He paused before adding, “Besides, she was injured saving me. Of course I look after her.”The others readily accepted his answer.I was the only one who remained frozen.Until that moment, I had always found excuses for him.When he denied the jokes about us, I told myself he was embarrassed because boys our age hated being teased. When he complained about having to consider me, I told myself he was only tired of our families arranging his life.Even after I overheard him speaking about Westbridge as an obligation, I tried to believe that his resentment was directed at the pressure around us—not at me.“Excuse me.”I left the table and stayed in the restroom until I

Lakeview was about three hours from home, and my aunt lived nearby, close enough to help if I ever needed her.Before enrollment, I underwent the first corrective procedure on my eyes. It eased my sensitivity to light and sharpened the shapes I could make out at night, though it could not restore ordinary vision. The doctors had warned me that this was close to the best possible outcome. I was not disappointed. At least I had chosen Lakeview for myself, not to follow anyone.I lived in a residence hall. The university mapped accessible routes for me, and the library offered magnifiers and audio materials. At first, I still pretended I could manage everything alone. Then I entered the wrong building and nearly missed an exam. After that, I learned to say, without shame, “I'm sorry, I can't read that sign. Could you point me in the right direction?”No one treated me like a burden. My friends did not cancel an evening bike ride because I could not join them; they simply asked whether I w

I remembered the attack when we were ten. At the first gunshot, I pushed Lorenzo behind a stone wall. The car windows shattered in the blast, and when I woke, the world had become blurred light.For weeks, I was afraid to sleep. Lorenzo stayed beside my hospital bed, holding my hand. Once I asked, “If my eyes never heal, will you be my other pair of eyes?”He promised, crying. For years, he kept that promise.The boy beside my hospital bed and the man across the café became one person again. His tenderness had been real. Perhaps he had loved me, even if he could not distinguish love from habit, guilt, and duty.“Knowing what went wrong doesn't take us back,” I told him.Outside the café, he asked quietly, “Will you forgive me?”“I don't know. Not now. I understand why you felt trapped, but your coldness made me question myself for years.“I used to imagine that if the attack had never happened, I could attend nighttime events, go anywhere without planning lighting or routes, and never