BLOODSTAINED HEARTS
In this moment, with Yelena by my side, the world felt a little brighter, a little less full of danger.
"So, tell me more about this 'different' artist," I pressed, settling back in my chair. "What's his name? What makes him so special?"
Yelena's eyes softened as she spoke, her voice taking on a dreamy quality. "His name is Marco," she said. "He sees the world in colors I never knew existed. He makes me laugh until my sides ache, and he challenges me to be better, to see beyond the darkness."
My heart ached a little, a bittersweet mix of pride and protective instinct. It was good to see her happy, to see the light dancing in her eyes again. But a part of me, the part hardened by years of liv
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