Scars Of Love: The Boss's Misunderstood Ex

An ancient instinct dragged my numb body through the slums.

The sky was leaden gray, the air thick with the pungent smell of exhaust and garbage.

My feet brought me to a hidden little diner on our old turf.

Pushing open the heavy glass door, the rusty bell let out a hollow jingle. The place was empty, save for the stubble-faced owner wiping the counter.

He was an old, retired member of the Family.

He looked up, squinting. "Where’s your protector?"

I swallowed hard and made up a lame excuse, saying Falco was busy. Then I retreated to the dimmest corner, sliding into the worn-out booth we used to share.

The owner brought over a plate of our usual dish, setting it on the table. He winked knowingly, secretly slipping an extra piece of roasted meat onto my plate.

A burning sensation rushed to my eyes, tears stinging behind them.

I stared at the grease pooling on the cheap plate.

I remembered when we were hungry foot soldiers at the bottom of the food chain. This cheap meal was our only luxury. In a ruthless world, it was a brief, warm respite.

The darkest days after Falco was poisoned.

He was too weak to stand, and even this cheap meal became an impossible luxury. But it was our loyalty to each other that kept us sane in that drafty apartment.

I remembered watching helplessly as he slipped into empty acceptance. He stopped fighting the agonizing pain, simply holding my hand, waiting in silence.

Days turned to nights, and the underground network remained silent. No matching kidney donor could be found.

I knew his stubborn pride. He would rather die a thousand times than take my organ.

So, I had to make a choice—to utterly break his heart so he would never question my leaving.

The day I finalized the secret organ-harvesting deal with the underground doc, I brought him this meal. I spent my last few bills on it.

He managed only a small bite of meat. He pushed the plate toward me. "My queen, finish it."

Tears blurred my thoughts.

I remembered him trying to comfort me, whispering, "When I’m gone, you’ll be strong enough to live on."

That was when I dealt the final blow.

Fighting back my own anguish, I stared into his eyes with an icy glare. "I’m leaving. I can’t be tied down to a weak, dying man. I’ve been bought by a rival faction. Let me go."

The weight of that betrayal crushed the young soldier. I watched his spirit shatter into pieces.

Terrified I would fall to my knees, I turned and fled.

A few days later, the underground doctor began the final phase of the surgery.

Long before stepping into the clinic, I demanded Falco be placed in a separate operating room under deep anesthesia.

A thick concrete wall separated us, ensuring my secret would never reach his ears.

As soon as the surgery was over, I packed my blood-soaked bandages and vanished, leaving him alone until he woke up, knowing only that a "mysterious anonymous donor" had saved his life.

Snapping back to reality, I blinked away the ghosts.

I picked up my fork and forced a piece of cold meat into my mouth; it tasted like ash on my tongue.