Hearts Laughing in Sweet Love

He'd politely turn them down, but shaking them off was another story.

Lucas treated every girl with a gentleman's charm.

At school, though, we were like ships passing in the night—barely a word exchanged.

In private, when we dated, I'd often give him the cold shoulder, stewing in silence.

But I'm a soft touch. A few pet names and sweet nothings from him, and I'd melt, forgiving him every time.

Then he'd pile on the demands, and they were always a tall order.

Our dates? Mostly just hookups, with little else on the agenda.

Eventually, I snapped out of it.

Back then, I was just a convenient outlet for the fiery, young Lucas to blow off steam.

A compliant tool, easy to fool. Lucas didn't realize how much that thrilled him.

His fingers crept around my waist, tightening bit by bit.

"Emma, I'm back, aren't I?"

He whispered in my ear, "But what's this I hear? You've been seeing another guy, letting him kiss you, talking marriage?"

I chuckled and forcefully loosened his grip.

"Lucas."

I spun around, my gaze cold and detached, "It's been eight years."

The night was pitch-black, but his features were strikingly clear and handsome.

I averted my eyes, "Don't come around here anymore. I'm about to get married. Wouldn't be good if my boyfriend got wind of this."

Lucas stayed silent but lifted his hand.

I watched him rip open his shirt, revealing a nasty scar over his heart, like a close call with a bullet.

He grabbed my hand, his face blank, and pressed it to the scar.

"Emma, tell me you don't love me anymore with your hand on my heart."

I brushed against the coarse scar and instinctively pulled back.

Lucas rolled up his sleeves once more.

The scars on his wrists were a shocking sight.

"Emma, you've been on my mind every single day for the past eight years."

"I nearly died trying to make it back to you."

Speaking, he offered a wry smile, then rolled his sleeves back down.

"Just say you don't love Lucas anymore, and I'll disappear forever, never to haunt you again."

"Couldn't you have sent a letter, made a call, or shot a text if you couldn't bring youself back?"

My voice trembled, and tears were already streaming down my face.

"I sent you a letter."

Lucas looked me straight in the eye, "But Emma, you never got back to me."

"Impossible. I didn't get anything."

Lucas frowned, then sneered, "Right, that letter must've been intercepted."

"Your parents?"

"Yeah, they've been dead set on marrying me off to some high-society gal, went to great lengths to cut me off."

"And those scars?"

"Got them trying to fight my way back to you, playing a dangerous game with my life as the stake."

Lucas mocked himself, his eyes tinted red, "Sounds pretty juvenile and ridiculous, huh?"

"Have you seriously thought about coming back for me, Lucas?"

"Over and over."

Suddenly, I covered my face, dropped to my knees, and cried out loud.

Emma, burdened and alone for so long, feeling like she might finally let go.

"Don't cry, I'm right here now, Emma."