Runaway With Mr. CEO’s Triplets
He slowly lifted his hand, revealing Phoebe’s delicate gold bracelet I gave her on her sixteenth birthday.
I snatched it from him, my fingers shaking as I traced the familiar design. It was scratched, and slightly bent, like it had been ripped off. A sob built in my throat, but I forced it down.
The bracelet was delicate, a thin band of gold that shimmered under the light. It wasn’t extravagant, but it held sentimental value beyond measure. A single, small heart-shaped charm dangled from it, engraved with P.S., Phoebe’s initials. I had it custom-made for her sixteenth birthday, a symbol of love and protection, something she could always carry with her.
Sikat na Kabanata