Romans & histoires Precious Scars

Once his jeans and underwear were off, I started to get on top of him, but he turned us over, “It’s my turn. I want to open my present.” He unlaced my negligee and slowly pushed the spaghetti straps down, off my shoulders, to expose my breasts. He lowered the negligee until I could kick it off, then he stood on his knees and hissed as he looked down at me laying and looking at him, “Damn, I can’t believe you are mine. You’re perfect.” I asked, “You don’t mind the scars?” He shook his head, “The scars are not who you are. They are just part of your story. I love every part of you. Especially your story because I get to be a part of it.”

The closest I’ve ever come. I set the empty glass down and walked to the tall mirror across the room. My reflection stared back: violet eyes sharp as broken amethyst, tail curling slowly behind me, skin flawless except for that faint pale line across my throat—the scar no magic ever fully erased. I traced it with one finger. Maureen wants to be gentle in a world that eats the gentle. She wants peace without paying its price. But peace isn’t given. Safety isn’t owed. They’re taken. Held.

His hair was hiding his eyes and she couldn't control it anymore She touched his hair lightly, she was sure he was asleep by now as he wasn't even moving. She gently pushed his hair out of his eyes, but before she could take a second to admire how beautiful he was, he opened his eyes. They were blue. Ice blue. They were beautiful. It was as if they held magic in them. They were attracting her towards him in a way that it was hard for her to oppose the force. It felt like those eyes held the most heartbreaking stories and scars. They were the eyes of a person who'd been through enough to last a lifetime.

Because if you love cherish yourself, no one could ever make you feel invalidated and worthless. Visible or not, every person has a scar. It could be a scar from an accident, or merely a painful past. Every bit of it might be painful to see or remember, but always believe that you're beautiful, and so is your scar. You are a very brave, tough, and wonderful person. That's why you were gifted a very beautiful scar to remember how you survived. It's a blessing in disguise. I can’t imagine how he made the song my simple storytelling to him. I felt then, because I was still too scared and embarrassed to be proud of my scar, that he would be the one to shout through this song.

"I'll find her. And when I do. I'll beg. Beg on bended knee. Go where she goes. But show Harrison Blackwood is not the devil Maya portrayed him to be. Be the man Leya needs." Alone, finally, in her life, the therapist cocked her head to one side. "That is your promise. Now hold on." And as Harrison left that office that night, his chest aching but his heart seething once more, there was one thing echoing in his ears above the rest: He had scars that would haunt him for a lifetime. And out of those scars had been driven home a promise — a promise that would be the refrain of his years.

Marcus stepped behind her pushing the wheel chair out of the ward. Scar is seated on the bed wrapped in a duvet,she looks pale and weak with eye bags. Marcus set the camera facing her properly,her scars that made her look formerly dangerous now made her look vulnerable,like someone beaten down by life,a number of times. “Good day guys,I'm Scar ,yeah that's how I remember my name, though people call me Lisa but I don't feel connected to it” She coughed, Marcus passed her a handkerchief,her hands trembled as she collected it,she coughed into it,her body trembling as she coughed,she raised her tears filled eyes, sniffing softly.

I got to the fancy club on time, but when I opened the private room door, I froze. Camila was there, sitting like a queen among society's elite. "Ms. Porter," she greeted with a smile. "You're so hard to get a hold of. If Catherine hadn't booked you three months back, and I hadn't bought this spot, I'd be waiting another three months." She looked me up and down. "Even strong women have to work, huh? You look worn out. Not me, since I just spend other people's money." I kept my cool, flipped through her papers, and could not help but laugh.

Your encouragement gave me strength, motivation, and purpose. Scarred Under Moonlight became more than just a novel. It became a shared experience, one built on emotion, connection, and trust. Together, we explored love, loss, resilience, and healing. Together, we watched as characters grew, stumbled, rose, and finally found peace. That shared experience is something I will always treasure.

he said bringing out a jewelry box from his pocket and handed it to me "Go ahead take it" he urged I took it from him staring at the little box I wonder what's inside, I opened the box to reveal a pretty pink and silver bracelet with heart shape around it I gasped at the way it trinkelled "Wow is this for me" I inquired unbelievably at the bracelet He nodded taking it from me and wearing it around my wrist. I must admit his touch sent electric waves through me "Its custom made, thought you'll like it since it has your favourite colours" he said itching the nape of his neck

he said and we went inside the mansion into his room. He made me sit on the bed and removed his t-shirt, he stood in front of me. he grabbed my hand pressed it against his naked chest. “Look,” he said, I did, as I look closely, I noticed a scar on his skin. “It’s a scar,” I whispered. As Nikolai has a scar on his body, I have a scar in my mind. The memory of Greyson’s death. Scars are what make us who we are. Everyone has scars…some are etched into skin, and some are burned into memory. Nobody moves through life without a scar slicing them in half.