#Chapter 13 - The Real Marco

Layla Just like that, this strange woman had read beneath my mask like she’d torn down his. In mere minutes, this woman—who I’d spent nearly eight years hating, blaming for my heartache—had seen through my lies to the real me. You still love him. Was I so obvious to everyone around me? Was it obvious to him, too? I spun to face her. “You know nothing—” She held up a hand to stop me—from speaking or from coming after her? “When someone’s broken your heart like that, how could you not?” The gentleness in her voice, as much as the words, halted my argument in its tracks. Froze my feet before I could step towards her. My breath puffed from my nose like an angry bull. She was right. For someone to have crushed a heart to oblivion, they must first have held it. Been given it to hold. Been trusted with such a fragile organ, such a critical part of existence. I’d given him my whole heart. And he’d pulverized it. “I still love him,” I whispered, letting this strange, beautif