The Mafia King’s Queen
I sat up slowly, drawing the moment in, wanting to remember how it felt to be on the edge of everything changing.
I went to the window barefoot.
Outside, the gardens of the estate were in full bloom, a devotion. White and blush roses swayed gently, and the arch that would soon be teeming with flowers stood like a promise waiting to be fulfilled. Chairs had been set in care, each one placed for witnesses to love, not bloodshed. Soft ribbon fluttered from the posts.
I pressed my hand against the glass, warmth meeting warmth, breath fogging the surface.
A lifetime ago, I used to think that love was weakness.
Bab Populer