Quotes Tentang Luka 소설 & 이야기

Never Again 🌷 “It has been said, 'time heals all wounds'. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.” Rose Kennedy ~•~ •X A V I E R•

The memory crashes into me, pulling me back to that night. I run my fingers over the ridges of his stomach, tracing the scars he never wants to talk about. Luca has scars—a few of them. The one on his face, he freely told me about. A fight. Then there’s the one from when Alessandro shot him. But the one he never talks about is this one, just below his ribs. I press my lips to it and look up at him as he leans against the headboard. “What happened here?” I ask.

Is it because no days come that she did not go away in my mind? "That's really love Clarkson son, it's hard to heal the wound it caused. Right now you have to endure, but don't despair, that one day, maybe when you wake up again, your pain will be gone. in your heart." No. I can feel it, no one can heal my wounds except my Luna. I know that time can't heal my broken heart, that was the truth. Time can't heal everything, especially if the one that causes you a scars will always be in your heart and mind.

Some scars might get scabbed over but never heal. ~ A. Gupta . COLE It has been three fûcking days since that night in her bedroom where she wounded me so fatally that I still feel like I was leaving trails of blôod everywhere. It still left me shocked that she had said those words. It doesn’t mean anything. The words echoed in my mind, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. No matter how hard I try I couldn't move past it. Like you said I just needed a fûck, it’s been too long.

Against my better judgment, I sighed and began unbuttoning my top, each movement slow and deliberate, my hands shaking slightly. Beneath the fabric, the wound was an angry red, the edges swollen and raw. The faint traces of silver still lingering in my blood made it slow to heal, and the pain was a constant, gnawing reminder of my vulnerability. Luca’s expression darkened as he crouched down to inspect it, his fingers hovering just above my skin. For a moment, I thought he might actually be concerned. “Damn it, Quinn,” he muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and something else I couldn’t quite place. “Why didn’t you say anything? This isn’t healing the way it should.”

"My own stupid fault, I should know better by now. It's not the first time." I pulled back the cloth and winced at the red burn mark. "That's a nasty one." "Bit more time in the ice and by tomorrow it will be a bad memory." "Time heals all wounds." "This coming from you?" "I didn't say I believed it." "Shan?" "Yeah?" "I need my hand back." "Oh? Oh, right. Sorry."

Luka tells me. “But I—“ I began, but Luka cut me off. “Don’t you dare say something like you are not worth it.” I don’t know how he knew, but that’s exactly what I was thinking. “You are the most amazing person I know. You're beautiful and kind. Having gone through so much and experiencing pain because of it, I hate that it happened, I want to do whatever I can to make things better for you, no matter what. So please don’t tell me you're not worth it. Because to me, you are.” The plea in his voice at the end got me. I was going to argue, but that stopped me in my tracks.

Amid the dialogue, there were moments of laughter and shared reminiscence—a reminder that even in grief, the spark of life and love could not be extinguished. Back in the infirmary, as the night deepened further, Zuri found herself revisiting the diary she had kept. She flipped through the pages, each entry a mixture of raw emotion and the hope that had slowly begun to bloom despite the darkness. In one entry, written in a shaky yet determined hand, she had written: *“Every scar is a story, every tear a lesson. Today, we learn that healing is not forgetting, but growing stronger together.”* The words resonated with her now more than ever.

“Come sit by me so I can treat your wounds. Let me see your cheek. It must hurt.” Luca hesitated. He looked at the offered hand, uncertain. “It doesn’t hurt,” he muttered automatically — but his voice trembled. Damian tilted his head slightly. “Doesn’t it?” he asked gently. “It really doesn’t hurt at all? Not even a little bit? Because sometimes things hurt more after a few minutes. And the longer you wait to treat it the more I'll hurt in the future.” Luca touched his cheek again unconsciously. “…It kinda hurts,” he admitted quietly.

“It was my mother and grandmother who saved me. Ruff had slowed him down, poor sweet creature. And of course my father had been the one to end Cujola. If they had given up on me for even a moment, I wouldn’t be here. But thanks to all of them, I made it through. Now, I have this horribly ugly scar to remind me of what happened.” Kit looked down, pulling the sheet away where it covered part of the jagged line that ran down the length of his left side. “It’s not ugly to me,” she replied, bending to place her lips in several places along the path. “It’s a story—it tells what you have overcome.” She looked back into his eyes. “Don’t ever think any less of yourself because of it. Scars make us wh