Novel & Cerita Name Heartbeat Tattoo

“I’ve never counted. At least three.” Her hand glides over my chest, slow and grounding, drifting downward — anchoring me to the present, to being alive, to her. And for the first time in a long while, the demons hesitate. “Is this where the iron went through you?” she asks after a while, her voice barely louder than a breath. Her fingers trace the tattoo on my hip, slow and reverent, following the ink that hides the scar beneath it. Two laurel branches — a symbol for her name — curve like angel wings, delicate yet strong at the same time. And a tiny heart.

He wasn't wearing anything except a small towel wrapped around his strong hips, hanging down to half of his muscular thighs. His hair was still dripping with water; it seemed he hadn't dried himself. He must have sensed someone was in his room. Then that tattoo caught me off guard. I froze as my eyes fell on it; on the left side of his chest, exactly above his heart, was my name. Yeah, it's my name. My name was there: Mila Russetti. With a trembling finger, I traced the name and read what was written beneath it in a smaller font: never forgive you.

I reached out, patting her back gently and rubbing small circles to help her calm down. She looked like someone who had spent years holding up a heavy wall and had finally let it crumble; the exhaustion in her posture was palpable. As she shifted, she slipped off her jacket, and that’s when I saw it. Her shirt lifted just enough to reveal the number 22 tattooed on her skin. Barbara had been right — there was a heart next to it. But looking at it closely now, I saw it wasn't a perfect, romantic heart. It was a broken heart, the edges jagged and separated by a thin line of skin, as if the ink itself were mourning something lost.

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Oh, he’s going to pay, Ryan. Oh, he will pay,” she muttered. “Now, to the only tattoo that doesn’t have a physical scar behind it. You asked me to tell you everything, so here goes nothing,” Ryan said. Scarlet furrowed her brows. “Which one doesn’t have a scar?” “The pretty face on my chest,” Ryan replied, pointing at the tattoo of a girl placed directly over his heart. “Who is she?” Scarlet asked softly.

A flicker of something, annoyance, maybe amusement, passes through his eyes. “I’ve noticed.” I hold his gaze for a second longer than I should, refusing to be the first to look away. But then my eyes betray me, drifting to his chest again, and that’s when I see it. Everything inside me goes still. There’s a tattoo over his heart. Black ink etched into his skin in exquisite detail. A bird in mid-flight with its wings spread wide and feathers so realistic I could swear they’re moving. A raven. My breath catches in my throat. My hand lifts out of the water without conscious thought. Trembling. Reaching for him like I’m drawn by invisible strings.

I could not even count the number of people I elbowed indiscriminately because they pushed me or stepped on me. Great. This is just freaking great! Coming here is the worst decision. “Ayen! Ayen, it’s them! Felix’s band!” She brandishes her poorly made cartolina banner above her head, and I’m sure as hell it can’t be seen from the stage. She used an almost dried-up light-colored marker that camouflages the color of the paper, so how can anyone read it from that distance? “It’s Sir Felix!” I correct her again, my voice getting drowned out by the crowd’s noise.

“Most are more ‘in the moment’ types of things, but there are a few that are close to my heart.” When she hears me say that, I see her fingers stop moving and she leans closer to look at where my heart is. She studies the intricate tattoo for a while and then I see her eyes light up and her mouth goes into a little O. The tattoo is one that is very special to me. It’s an intricate tree and while the base holds my family, the branches hold the names of the people who mean the most to me. Addison’s name is the first that I had done. It’s twisted and braided and there are small white tulips throughout her name.

Even if it wasn't something we felt we needed to do at this moment, I think I would have had a hard time denying him this joy. "As soon as you wake up," he explains, "as the sun kisses the horizon, my mother will come and take you to be bathed and prepared for the ceremony. You will be scrubbed, massaged, and oiled until you shine. From there you will have a light breakfast, just a bite or two, before heading to the royal tattoo artist who will discuss placement and design. She will then ink the design on your body and using her control over water, infuse your skin with the ink, making it permanent." Pointing at his chest, just under his right pectoral he declares, "I have decided I want to

I sighed as I removed my finger on my lip. I describe my tattoo to be a heart, not a love shape. A heart precisely, with a lock at the left ventricle. I described the lock to be the one you see on a door handle, where your key fits in. I added the heart should be in red ink and the lock darkened to create a real image. Then 'Bunny' should be written in calligraphy at the bottom side of the heart. "You know, that would require more lines on your skin, yeah?" the tattooist responded.

It smells of him and it calms me down immediately, but when I look up and find his shirtless body staring back at me, my jaw drops, and my blood heats. Calm is long forgotten. Rome is ripped and covered in tattoos. He’s always had them, I know. However, it’s more now, and his arms are covered in tattoos, not excessively, but enough. His front is untouched, all except for one that’s directly on his chest, specifically his heart. My heart seems to stop beating when I see the tattoo. It’s an infinity mark with a single vertical band running around the middle, and two dots on both ends of the band. It’s exactly like mine, only bigger. I stare at it with an open mouth.