My Darling Superstar
Not wanted.
She clenched her fingers a little tighter around the daisy, then loosened her grip. No, she wouldn't break. Not for him. Not forever. She was not some flower meant to be stepped over and discarded. She would rise—stronger, wiser. One day, this pain would be nothing more than a shadow behind her.
“I always thought daisies were too modest to be anyone’s favorite,” came a voice from behind.
Emily turned slightly, startled.
Nancy stood there, smiling, her arms folded gently in front of her. She was dressed in soft cream, her long dark hair catching the light like silk. Her voice was warm—always warm—the kind of tone people instantly trusted.