#Bethany House Book
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Review: Shield of the Mighty
Synopsis: Captured by the Philistines as a young boy, Zevi has grown into a formidable warrior. As a captain in King Saulâs army, he is assigned a crucial mission: Recruit soldiers, gather tribute for the royal coffers, and find talented artisans for the kingâs court. But when he is sent to Maresha, the town he was forced to leave as a child, he faces a startling truthâthe elder council rejectsâŚ
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#adventure#Bethany House Book#Biblical#Christian Fiction#Christy Award-Winning Author#Connilyn Cossette#enemies#faith#Fiction#grief#healing#hope#King Saul#King Saul&039;s Army#loss#love#must read book#new#New Release#novel#pain#recommended#scars of the past#series#Shield of the Mighty#The King&039;s Men Series#war
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sometimes you gotta take in the lil details
#non sims#i'll come up with a skyrim tag#in my tes era again#(always i just go sleeper agent on it ig)#still in my modding skyrim era i'm sick so that's not v conductive to me actually playing morrowind so this is what i've been doing#sad bc nammu made some good progress he joined house redoran he's actually level 3 and somehow keeps invading every vampire tomb#(i run away bc i cannot deal w that right now)#his slave bracers finally broke off <3#i'll compile some screens and post tomorrow maybe#i truly am the people todd coward thinks about when bethany esda is concocting the latest installment of weird ass lore told through#environmental storytelling and esoteric books and an open world crafted with meticulous detail cursed with bugs up the wazoo#but yeah modding skyrim is being surprisingly fun after i figured out mod organizer#i have bookmarked some mods that require me to regen lods dyndolod or whatever it's called but i'll do that at the end#at least in morrowind that's how i do it#i did my engine fixes my bug fixes my graphics and sounds overhauls my model replacers enb landscapes and now my cities and locations mods#armor next and then i'll start overhauling combat#i'm gunning for dark souls like bc that combat style suits me rly well and i always hated melee in skyrim#(re: armors sforz i looked at your imitations previews and i'm in love i'll have fun experimenting w/ them i owe u my life)#but yeah...... 99% of my skyrim experience has been in ps save for a brief moment i pirated it on release on my shitty laptop i had then#it's been wonderful to actually mod it
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"Baela's greatest fear is losing another person."
#baela targaryen#Bethany Antonia#house of the dragon#hotd#book spoilers#fire and blood spoilers#hotd press tour#Youtube
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Lady Rhaena and her twin sister, Baela, became the darlings of the city overnight. Lord Stark could not confine them to the castle, as he had Prince Aegon, and he soon learned that he could not control them either.
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PS: This is for my collection using the HotD actors with a closer book characterization. Since the twins are played by different actors but are supposed to be identical, I chose to do two pieces with them as the dragon twins. This is Bethany as Rhaena and Baela. Iâll do Phoebe as both of them later.
#rhaena targaryen#baela targaryen#rhaena of pentos#baela of pentos#dragon twins#asoiaf#asoiaf fanart#fanart#procreate#hotd fanart#house of the dragon#hotd#digital painting#house targaryen#fire and blood#hotd actors but book traits#my art#digital art#bethany antonia
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One of the things I like about Amy Lynn Greenâs books is that she writes cranky characters. You donât really get that in Christian fiction. Thereâs a level of romanticism that softens most main characters, but she lets hers be sharp and spiky. Flawed in normal human ways, not just in âIâll need a conversion to overcome thisâ ways. Her characters do imperfect things--yell or get angry or be mean--and itâs just...part of the story. Not an intense flaw to be dissected to death. It makes things feel more real and relatable and not sanitized of all life. Itâs probably ânot Christian enoughâ for the genre, but I donât really care. It makes for a good book. It reminds me of how Christianity was written about in the actual â40s--just woven in as part of life--and thatâs really refreshing.
#random thought of the day#books#amy lynn green#i've been waiting for her new book but assumed it wasn't coming until january#then a week ago i learned it was coming out on the 15th#i haven't been able to really get into anything else because i've been waiting for this instead#bethany house puts all their new releases on hoopla and they're often there the day before official release#so i tried it today and there it is#i'm a few chapters in and it's lovely#really reminds me of something by streatfeild or d.e. stevenson#nothing profoundly deep but just solid light fiction with good characters#the blackout book club#is the title by the way#of course i'm going to like it it's about people reading books
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why do so many gothic books have incestuous undertones???? i came for the haunted house, i donât want to read you kissing your goddamn brother.
#the fall#bethany griffin#gothic literature#gothic lit#reading#books#edgar allen poe#the fall of the house of usher
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Review: "Born of Gilded Mountains" by Amanda Dykes
Thanks for reading! Today is all about the recently released Born of Gilded Mountains by Amanda Dykes, a historical fiction tale. A lost treasure. A riddled quest. The healing power of friendship.Legends are tucked into every fold of the Colorado mountains surrounding the quaint town of Mercy Peak, where residents are the stuff of tall tales, the peaks are taller still, and a lost treasure hasâŚ
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#adventure#Amanda Dykes#Bethany House#Book#book review#Historical Fiction#literature#Novel#read#Reading
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Commentary: The State of Catholic Publishing, Marketing, and Sales
The world of publishing is fascinating, complicated, and irrational. Take that complicated dynamic and add into the mix marketing and purchasing Catholic fiction in particular. Recently, I was looking to add a fiction purchase or two onto an existing purchase of several Catholic items from Catholic stores online. My shopping experience resulted in no purchases from any of the online stores IâŚ
#Bethany House#books#Catholic authors#Catholic publishing#Catholic Writers Guild#Chrism Press#Commentary#fiction#independent authors#Opinion#Publishing#Revel#Thomas Nelson#Tyndale#WhiteFire
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Until Our Time Comes by Nicole M. Miller
Blurb: American horse trainer Adia Kensington is living her dream of working at the famous JanĂłw Podlaski stables in Poland, where they breed the best Arabian horses in the world. But her plans to bring the priceless stallion Lubor to the US are derailed when the German army storms into her adopted country in 1939. Little does she know this is just the beginning of six long years of occupation that will threaten her beloved horses at every turn.
Major Bret Conway is at JanĂłw Podlaski under the guise of a news reporter, but his true mission is intelligence gathering for the British. That and keeping Adia safe, which is harder and harder to do as she insists they must evacuate 250 horses to save them from being stolen, sold, or eaten by the invading forces. What follows will test their physical, mental, and emotional strength, as well as their faith in God, humankind, and each other.
Drawn from true events of World War II, this epic story of escape, capture, resistance, and love from debut novelist Nicole M. Miller will thunder into your heart like a herd of beautiful horses across a raging river.
Review: Until Our Time Comes is a beautiful look at just how far the Nazi forces affected every aspect of life in the lands they occupied during WWII. There are plenty of novels that explore the human aspect of Nazi occupation, but very few that look at how they impacted things like animals, wildlife, landscape, and other facets of the environment. The way Nazi occupation affect these areas of European life is no less shocking and impactful that the effects they had on humans, but they often fall to the wayside considering just how tragic the aftermath of their treatment of humans was. We focus on the Holocaust because that was a level of destruction humans had never seen before. But it wasnât the only destruction the Nazis wrought.Â
Until Our Time Comes takes a look at one tiny part of what the Nazis did to animals during their occupation of Eastern Europe. And Miller did an incredible job of showing just how heartwrenching these events were. When we think of WWII we donât often, if at all, think of horses. Hitlerâs goals were for an âAryan Race.â Which most often is associated with humans (hence the Holocaust and the culling of those who did not fit that mold). But those goals extended beyond just people. And while millions of people were trying to flee from the SS, the Nazis were extending their goals to animals as well.Â
JanĂłw Podlaski is, and was, a world-renowned horse stable. They are responsible for some of the finest Arabian horses on this earth. The Great War (WWI) greatly impacted their breeding program. And they were still recovering when WWII broke out. There was a desperate effort to keep the horses at JanĂłw Podlaski out of Nazi hands. The stables hand were not able to evacuate all of the horses, but they put their best effort into it. And after the war ended, some of those horses made their way back to the stable.Â
Until Our Time Comes tells this story, but Miller does this with a cast of (human) characters that allows readers to explore the human impact of the Nazi invasion as well. Aida is a compassionate, loving, protective, and strong woman who refuses to run when the animals (and people) she cares about are in danger. While she works to save the horses she loves, we see her also loving and caring for Bret and Ewan as well. We see Bret falling for Aida even before the invasion begins and then doing everything she can to keep her safe, even when she wonât leave the horses behind. Aida, Bret, and Ewan become a family in the midst of the hell that was the Nazi invasion but found ways to keep themselves, each other, the people, and the horses they cared about as safe as possible.Â
This is not a simple feel-good read. There are points where you will cry, points where you will laugh, and points where you will feel your heart breaking only to feel it mend. The romance makes this book human. It gives you relationships to explore. But this book centers on the horses, Aidaâs love for them, and the massive undertaking it was to keep them safe.Â
Miller has delivered a fantastic look at how the Nazis impacted animals right alongside the horrors of the Holocaust. For most readers, this will open the door to a whole other side of Hitler's atrocities (we donât often hear about how animals were treated during the war). This is a masterful story of love: for lovers, for family, and for the animals in our lives. I am blown away by this novel and I cannot wait to see what Miller comes up with next.Â
Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from the publisher via the Revell Reads Blogger Program in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are HONEST. All opinions are my own.Â
#book review#historical fiction#christian fiction#romance fiction#revell books#Until Our Time Comes#Nicole M. Miller#reviews#Revell Books#Revell Reads#bethany house
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Review: Specters in the Glass House
Synopsis: In 1921, Marian Arnold, the heiress to a brewing baronâs empire, seeks solace in the glass butterfly house on her familyâs Wisconsin estate as Prohibition and the deaths of her parents cast a long shadow over her shrinking world. When Marianâs sanctuary is invaded by nightmarish visions, she grapples with the line between hallucinations of things to come and malevolent forces at playâŚ
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#2024#Amazon#Bestselling Author#Bethany House Fiction#book review#Dark#deadly#dramatic#emotionally charged#entertaining#Evil#family#Family Drama#Fiction#friends#fun#generational#Goodreads#Gothic#grief#hope#Intense#intrigue#Jaime Jo Wright#loss#love#multilayer mystery#must read#must read book#mystery
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Meet Me at the Starlight by Rachel Hauck -- A Book Review
Happy Tuesday! Meet Me at the Starlight is the latest novel by Rachel Hauck. Pop by to learn more about a story about second chances, faith, romance, finding yourself, and fighting to save the Starlight. Happy Reading!
https://bibliophileandavidreader.blogspot.com/2024/07/meet-me-at-starlight-by-rachel-hauck.html
#theavidreader#book review#christian fiction#historical fiction#the avid reader#meetmeatthestarlight#bethany house#bethany house publishers#rachel hauck
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15 Romantic Reads To Curl Up With
Just like there's something for every sweet tooth in one of those delectable chocolate samplers, there's something for every reader on this list of 15 ROMANTIC READS TO CURL UP WITH! #BookTwitter @bethany_house #RomanceReaders #readingcommunity
Happy Monday, dear reading friends! Itâs February, the month of love, and yâall know how much I love romantic reads â whether itâs just a mere hint or a full-blown KissingBook. And of course Valentineâs Day not only brings romantic reads to mind more than usual, it also makes me crave a box of chocolates. Just like thereâs something for every sweet tooth in one of those delectable chocolateâŚ
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#Bethany House#biblical fiction#book spotlight#Christian fiction#coming up#contemporary romance#historical fiction#historical romance#new releases#romantic suspense#TBR
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The Sisters of Sea View by Julie Klasse - Regency fiction with an amazing family dynamic
The Sisters of Sea View is cozy, heartwarming, uplifting, and character-driven Regency fiction with an amazing family dynamic and beautiful setting. The Sisters of Sea View (On Devonshire Shores #1) by Julie Klasse Publication Date : December 6, 2022 Publisher : Bethany House Publishers Read Date : June 29, 2023 Genre : Historical Fiction Pages : 448 âââââ Rating: 5 out of 5. DisclaimerâŚ
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#amazing family dynamic#Bethany House Publishers#Book Blog#book blog feature#Book blogger#Book review#book review blog#book reviewer#Books Teacup and Reviews#Character driven#Family Drama#Historical Fiction#historical women&039;s fiction#Indian Book Blogger#Julie Klasse#On Devonshire Shores#regency fiction#Sisterhood
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Blogmas Day 10 | The Christmas Heirloom by Karen Witemeyer | Book Review
Blogmas Day 10 | The Christmas Heirloom by Karen Witemeyer | Book Review
Title: The Christmas Heirloom Author: Karen Witemeyer Publisher: Bethany House Publishers Published Date: October 1st, 2018 Genre: Christmas, Historical Fiction, Adult fiction Source: Library Rating: â
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.5 Goodreads Summary: In stories ranging from 1820s Regency England to present-day Washington state, readers will be treated to Christmas tales of an heirloom brooch passed from motherâŚ
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#3.5 stars#bethany house#Bethany House Publishers#blogmas#blogmas 2022#book review#christmas#christmas romance#getting my netgalley under control#historical fiction#karen witemeyer#novellas#short stories#the christmas heirloom
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August
[ Mattheo riddle x reader] [part2]
Summary: all y/n wanted is to love and to be loved to see the beauty of the world and to be happy even if thatâs mean she will have to hide away , until that summer the summer she talked to mattheo riddle.
Words: 8.5k
Warnings: fluff, Angst , Angst , and a lot of angst, strong language , light smut, toxic, abused father.
August, finally. Summer, at last. The book snapped shut with a quiet _click_, and I slipped it into my bag. A glance at the darkening sky confirmed my decision. Time to go.
The beach was deserted now, save for the distant sound of laughter from a party I hadnât been invited to. No hard feelings, no bad blood. It wasnât that they disliked meâthey simply didnât see me.
I was an outsider to that world, a solitary figure on the periphery. No invitations had been extended, no longing glances cast my way. It was as though I existed in a silent film, a mere extra in the grand spectacle of life.
The sky, a masterpiece of blue, held me captive. In that moment, I was adrift, a solitary vessel on a boundless ocean. There was no turmoil, no drama, just the gentle sway of existence.
As I drove away from the beach, a flash of movement caught my eye. I slowed the car, looking out the window. There, on a bench under the pale glow of a streetlamp, was a figure slumped over. A bottle dangled precariously from one hand, and his face was streaked with what looked like red liquid. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized himâMattheo Riddle, the infamous troublemaker.
I pulled over and got out of the car, the gravel crunching under my feet as I approached him. He was asleep, his dark hair falling over his eyes, his usually sharp features softened by unconsciousness.
I carefully took the bottle from his hand, the alcoholâs pungent smell mixing with the salt air. He stirred, and in an instant, his hand shot out, catching mine.
He sat up abruptly, blinking rapidly, clearly disoriented. âWhat theââ he muttered, his voice thick with sleep and alcohol. âBetty? Bethany? Is that you?â
"No," I replied, my tone firm yet gentle. "It's Y/n."
He sat up abruptly, blinking against the night. The world seemed to tilt for him, and I extended a steady hand. His fingers, calloused and strong, closed around mine. A wave of dizziness washed over him, his eyes glazing over.
"Y/n Y/L/n," he mumbled, as if testing the syllables on his tongue. "Y/N Y/L/N... I know who you are."
"You do?" I asked, a bit surprised.
"Oh, I know," he said, attempting to stand. He wobbled, and I reached out to steady him.
"You want me to help you get back home?"
He attempted to stand, wobbling on his feet, and I instinctively reached out to steady him.
"Easy there," I murmured, helping him to his feet.
"Thank you, love,"
"It's Y/N," I corrected.
"But 'love' fits you quite fine," he replied, a flirtatious glint in his eyes.
I rolled my eyes. "Let me drive you home."
"Yeah, that'd be nice."He nodded, still leaning on me for support.
"Are you staying with Enzo at the Berkshire house?" I asked.
"Yeah," he mumbled, his head lolling slightly.
With some effort, I guided him to the car and helped him into the passenger seat. As I started the engine, he looked over at me, his expression softening.
"Youâre so kind, love," he mumbled. "Why are you so kind to me?"
"Because you need help," I replied simply. "Just doing the right thing,"
He laughed softly, a drunken, endearing sound. "Youâre too good for this world, Y/N." he mumbled, "Always thought you were pretty."
"Thank you, Mattheo," I replied, trying to keep my focus on the road.
"Iâve noticed you before, you know. Always so quiet, so calm. I like that," he continued, his voice softening.
"That's sweet of you to say."
He leaned back in the seat, his eyes closing again. "Yeah, love. Sweet."
I pulled up to the Berkshire house and helped him out of the car. "Letâs get you inside."
As we walked to the door, he leaned heavily on me, his steps unsteady. "Youâre my angel, love," he whispered.
"It's Y/N, and youâre drunk" I reminded him gently. "And you have a girlfriend,"
"Oh, not anymore," he slurred, his expression turning somber.
I looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Itâs over. She doesnât want me anymore," he mumbled, swaying slightly.
We reached the front door, and I knocked, but no one answered. Enzo must still be at the party.
"Do you have a key?" I asked.
"Yeah, somewhere," he replied, patting his pockets aimlessly.
"I need more than âsomewhere,â Mattheo. Can you please tell me where your key is?"
After a moment of fumbling, he pulled it out and handed it to me with a smile. I opened the door and helped him inside, guiding him to the couch. He collapsed onto it with a groan.
"No one's here," I said, glancing around.
"Are you trying to get me all alone, Y/N?"
"What? No, I just wanted someone to be here so you wonât do anything stupid," I retorted, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks.
But he was already drifting off, too drunk to do much of anything. I walked to the kitchen to get a water bottle. It felt wrong to walk around someone else's house like this, but then I spotted a bottle of aspirin on the table. Maybe these boys get drunk a lot; why else would it be there?
I returned to the living room, placing the water and aspirin on the table. I noticed Mattheo struggling to get his jacket off, one arm stuck in the sleeve. Gently, I helped him remove it and set it aside.
"Thanks, Betty," he murmured in his sleep, making my heart sink.
I blinked, fighting the urge to correct him, "You're welcome, Riddle," I whispered, knowing he wouldnât hear it. He thought I was someone else. I was his Betty I doubted he even knew who I really was all that time.
As I get back to the car I noticed the bottle of red wine on the seat and couldn't help but smile.
The next day, the familiar sound of my parents arguing filled the house, so I grabbed my keys and headed to the beach for some peace.
When I got there, I saw him again. He was sitting on the sand, his hair damp, and his shirt clinging to his wet body. He must have just come out of the ocean. I tried to turn away, but it was too lateâhe had already noticed me.
"Going to ignore me?" he asked, walking towards me.
"No, of course not," I lied.
He smiled, "Liar." Then he looked at me seriously. "Thank you for last night. I'm sorry if I said anything that offended you. I don't remember much, but I appreciate what you did."
I was surprised he remembered at all and I wondered if he recalled calling me Betty too. "It's okay, you didn't. You just had a bad day, I guess."
He nodded. âI can leave if you want.â
âNo, itâs okay,â I said, sitting down on the sand and pulling out my book.
âLittle Women,â he remarked, eyeing the cover.
I nodded. He asked, âWho's your favorite character?â
Suddenly nervous, I struggled to form a coherent sentence. âUh, Amy,â I finally managed.
âOh, wow. Amy?â He raised an eyebrow.
I rolled my eyes.
âWhat was that for?â he asked, smiling.
âYouâre just going to bully her, probably.â
âNo, I would never do such a thing.â
I nodded, turning my gaze to the blue water. âItâs just... sheâs notââ
âSheâs not what?â I interrupted, defensive. âAmy is passionate and driven. She knows what she wants and goes after it. Sheâs not afraid to dream big.â
Mattheo was looking at me, truly listening. I blinked and looked away.
He grinned, teasing, âYouâre quite the defender.â
I felt his eyes on me, making it impossible to focus on my book. I looked up and met his gaze. âYouâre staring,â I said.
âIâm staring,â he replied, unashamed.
I laughed and closed the book. âWhat do you want?â
âI want to listen to you.â
âListen to me?â
âYeah, just like when you were defending Amy with your life a minute ago.â
âI donât have anything interesting to talk about.â
He sat closer, leaning on his arm. âThen tell me something about yourself, something that no one knows.â
I laughed nervously. âNo one knows anything about me, Mattheo.â
âMysterious, are we?â
âMore invisible, are we.â
His expression softened. âYou are not invisible. Not to me, not anymore.â
I looked away. âFine. I canât swim.â
âYou what?â
âI canât swim. Tried too many times but failed.â
He looked shocked. âI can teach you.â
âOh no, thanks."
âCome on, thatâs the least I can do after last night.â
âNo, I donât think Iâll ever be able to do that.â
He nodded, sensing there was more to it. âYouâre not getting away from it, but weâll drop it for now. Tell me, what can I do for you?â
âNothing. You donât have to.â
âBut I want to.â
Blushing, I tried to say something, anything to distract from his gaze. âYou can get me ice cream.â
He laughed. âThatâs it? Just ice cream?â
I smiled. âYes.â
âFine, you get this.â He stood up and offered me his hand. Nervously, I took it, and he helped me up.
As we walked, a comfortable silence settled between us. I broke it, almost without thinking. âWanna play something?â
I wasnât sure why I asked, maybe to feel what itâs like to have a conversation, to play with a friend. Waitâa friend? No, weâre not friends.
He interrupted my thoughts. âYes, of course. What is it?â
âI spy with my little eye...â I said, feeling a bit silly. He laughed, and I knew why. It was childish, very childish. But this was new to me. I hadnât experienced much of this in my childhood.
âFine with me. Wanna start?â he asked, grinning.
I nodded. âI spy with my little eye, something... blue.â
He looked around, squinting playfully. âThe ocean?â
âToo easy. Your turn,â I said, smiling.
âI spy with my little eye, something... red,â he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
I scanned the surroundings. âThat towel over there?â
âNope,â he replied, smirking.
âGive me a hint?â
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. âItâs closer than you think.â
I frowned, looking around us. Then I realizedâmy swimsuit strap, peeking out from under my shirt. âOh. My swimsuit?â
âGot it,â he said, his grin widening.
We continued like this, the game bridging the gaps between our words. He was better at it than I expected.
âI spy with my little eye, something... brown,â I said, feeling more relaxed.
âMy hair,â he guessed quickly, ruffling it for emphasis.
âRight again.â
âI spy with my little eye, something... beautiful,â he said, looking directly at me.
I blushed. âMattheo...â
âWhat? Youâre wearing it. That necklace,â he said, pointing to the small pendant I always wore.
âSo, whatâs your favorite flavor?â I asked, trying to steer the conversation back to safer grounds.
âMint chocolate chip. Yours?â
âStrawberry.â
He raised an eyebrow. âSweet and classic. Fits you.â
I rolled my eyes playfully.
âJust being honest.â
We arrived at the ice cream booth, still caught up in our game. âTwo cones, please,â he ordered, handing me one.
âThank you,â I said, taking a bite.
âAnytime, love,â he replied, winking.
I felt his eyes on me again, the way they made me feel seen. It was unsettling and exhilarating at the same time.
Then we continued our game.
"I spy with my little eye, something... on your face," he said, a teasing smile playing on his lips.
I frowned, confused. "What? Where?"
He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto mine. "Right here," he said softly, pointing to the corner of my mouth. "Youâve got a bit of ice cream."
I tried to wipe it away, but missed. âDid I get it?â
âHere, let me help.â He reached out, wiping the spot with his finger, brushing my lips. My breath hitched at the contact.
Just then, a cat darted out from the bushes, startling me. Instinctively, I grabbed Mattheo. My ice cream went flying, splattering all over his shirt.
âOh my god, Iâm so sorry!â I started to panic, my apologies tumbling out in a rush. âI didnât mean toâI didnât see the catââ
âTrying to get me naked already, Y/N? If you wanted me to take my shirt off, you should have just asked, love.â
But my mind was elsewhere, trapped in a darker place. I kept apologizing, my breathing becoming erratic. Memories of my fatherâs anger flashed in my mind, and I couldnât see Mattheo standing there.
âY/N, itâs okay. Itâs just a shirt,â he said, trying to calm me. But I couldnât stop, the panic rising within me.
âHey, hey, Y/N, look at me, baby,â he said, more urgently. I didnât respond until he cupped my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. âItâs just a shirt. Itâs okay.â
I nodded, still trembling. He wiped away the tears I hadnât realized were falling. âIâm sorry,â I whispered.
âThereâs nothing to apologize for, love,â he said, shaking his head.
âYouâre not mad?â
âOf course Iâm not mad,â he assured me. âIf anything, youâve given me an excuse to show off.â He grinned, his flirtatious tone returning. âI bet youâre wondering how someone can look this good, even with ice cream all over them.â
I laughed softly, feeling the tension ease a bit. âMaybe a little.â
âSee? Just a shirt and a bit of ice cream. No big deal,â he said, his hands still gently holding my face. âNow, letâs get you another ice cream.â
For the next weeks, we were inseparable. Mattheo and I met at the beach every day, talking, playing, and even reading a book together. His relentless flirting always left my cheeks as red as blood and made breathing a challenging task.
Today, as I parked the car and got out, I saw him playing football with a little boy.
"Who is that?" I asked, curious.
He looked up at me and smiled. "Found him here. Heâs adorableâmight just adopt him."
I laughed. "You canât just adopt a kid you found on the beach, Mattheo."
I knelt down to the boy's level. "Hi."
"Hi," he responded, smiling.
"Where are your parents?" I asked.
"Over there," he said, pointing to a small family who waved at us once they noticed we were looking at them.
I looked up at Mattheo. He smiled. "What? You look adorable when youâre confused. Iâd never miss a chance to see that expression on your face."
I sat on the back of my car, watching them. He continued to play with the boy for a little while until his family called him to leave. I waved goodbye to the little boy and then turned my attention to Mattheo.
"I never knew you were that good with kids," I said as he walked over to me, placing his hands on either side of me.
"Yeah?" he asked, and I nodded.
"Let me wonder why," he said, smiling. "Maybe because my father who probably wants to end the world died and left me fatherless?"
My eyes widened. "No, no, Mattheo, I didnât mean that."
He chuckled. "Iâm just teasing you, my love."
I blinked, noticing the subtle differenceâ"my love," not just "love."
"Go ahead, ask it," he said.
"Ask what?" I replied, feigning ignorance.
"I can see you thinking. You probably want to ask something but are afraid to," he said.
I shook my head, but he insisted. "Itâs okay, you can ask me anything, and I will answer it."
I smiled, about to speak, but he cut me off. "With one condition."
"What? What is it?" I asked, curious and a bit apprehensive.
"Come with me," he said, glancing at the ocean. "You donât have to swim or learn, just a little in. Iâll be there and will help you and answer all your questions too."
I felt a wave of nervousness and fear, but he noticed, touching my cheeks gently. "Hey, hey, look at me, love. Forget about it, okay? If youâre notâ"
"No, no, I want to," I cut him off, nodding. "Are you sure?" he whispered, and I smiled, saying, "Never had I ever before."
I got off the car, and despite not wearing a bikini, I shyly took off my shirt, revealing my one-piece swimsuit. He smiled, taking off his shirt as well, and grabbed my hands. His touch was reassuring, and as we walked towards the ocean, I felt a mix of excitement and anxiety.
He led me into the water, just a step ahead of me, watching carefully as I looked down, watching my feet touch the water.
"Up, eyes on me, my love," he said softly. I did as he asked, meeting his gaze. He smiled at me and said, "Now, ask your questions."
I knew what he was doingâdistracting me from my fear. I smiled nervously. "Okay, itâs personal and-," I began, but he cut me off.
"Itâs over," he said, my eyes widening that he already knew what I was going to ask. "Come on, love, I was waiting for you to ask it. You didnât think I knew? Yeah, me and Bethanyâitâs over since that night."
I nodded, feeling a bit relieved. He took his turn. "Tell me, why are you afraid of it?" he asked gently, his fingers tracing circles on my hands.
"My fatherâmy father, he threw me into the ocean once. I thought I was going to die, but then he pulled me out at the last moment," I said, my voice trembling. He stopped walking, squeezing my hands gently.
"Why would he do that? How could he do that?" he asked, his eyes darkening with concern.
"Heâs very religious. He doesnât tolerate... mistakes. I was ten. It was a birthday party for a daughter of one of my motherâs friends. We the kids were playingâa silly game. Seven minutes in heaven. Nothing happened, we just stayed in the closet. But my father didnât believe me, or maybe he did and was just angry that I agreed to such a âshameless gameâ as he called it. My mother bore the brunt of his anger after that," I explained.
He listened intently, his face a mix of anger and empathy. I was too afraid to look at him directly, but then I realized the water was up to my chest. I panicked, and he immediately wrapped his arms around my waist.
"I got you," he said, and I clung to him.
"Did your parents divorce?" he asked softly.
"Oh, worse," I said bitterly. "They stayed together for the kidâme. Canât you see how happy I am now, thanks to them?" I laughed, but he didn't. Instead, he tightened his hold on me.
"You asked too many questions. You cheated," i said, he smiled tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear while still holding me.
"I donât follow rules, my love," he said, and I smiled. "But youâre right. Ask away."
"Will youâwill you still talk to me when we go back to school?" I asked, finally looking him in the eyes. There was nothing under my feet now; I was deep in the ocean. But it wasn't that which made me nervousâit was his answer.
"Why would you think I wouldnât?" he asked, smiling and touching my hair, then my cheeks.
"I donât know. I just thought..." I struggled to express my fear.
"You thought wrong, my love," he said, and despite being in the water, I clung to him even more. "Of course I will," he whispered in my ear. I nodded, resting my head on his shoulder, afraid to look at him, afraid to see a look of uncertainty in his beautiful eyes, or worse, something moreâa desire I had long craved but thought was a fantasy, a dream people like me couldnât have.
"Now, my turn. Why do you always hide?" he asked, and I looked at him, confused.
"Hide?"
"Yes, hide from everyone. Youâre one of the smartest witches in our year. You have tooâ"
"I donât want that," I interrupted.
"Donât want what?"
"Itâs justâIâ" I tried to explain. "I donât want to be noticed. I thought I did, but I donât. Itâs... ugh, Merlin, this is hard to explain. I just want to be happy."
"Happy?" he asked, his tone gentle.
"Yes, happy. Just happy and loved. I want love. I want to see the beauty in everything, but people always ruin that, donât they? I want peace and happiness and loveâa lot of love. And just because I donât want to be a fighter or always know what to say, always fighting for things, always proving and provingâIâm so tired of always having to prove that I deserve to live, to be part of this world. I donât want power or everything. I just want a little something, a little love. And Iâm not weak, but I canât explain that without sounding like a weak person, a scared girl. Iâm not. Iâm stronger than they all think," I yelled the last part.
"I know," he said gently, his hands in my hair.
"I was just trying to survive," I said, and he nodded.
I looked into his eyes and regretted it. The sun made them even more beautiful, and the thoughts I had would make my father get a priest to cleanse my soul. Sadly, I realized how close we were, his hands on my skin, our faces too close.
I didnât realize I was looking at his lips until I looked up and saw his smirk.
My heart racing as his smile softened into something more tender, more intimate. The sun glinted off the water, casting a golden light over his face. His hand was warm against my skin, the other still wrapped securely around my waist.
"Donât let go," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I donât want to die."
His smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my cheek. "I would never," he murmured, his voice steady and reassuring.
He reached out, his right hand cupping my chin, gently guiding my face until I was forced to meet his gaze. His other arm remained securely around my waist, holding me close. âDonât look away from me now,â he said, his voice a soft command that sent shivers down my spine.
I wanted to tell him that I couldnât, that I didnât want to look away, but the feelings swirling inside me terrified me. I inched even closer to him, our bodies nearly flush against each other. I could feel his breath on my face, warm and intoxicating, and without thinkingâor maybe because I didnât want to thinkâI leaned in and kissed his cheek.
The moment my lips touched his skin, I felt a jolt of surprise, as if I had crossed a line I didnât even know existed. He looked just as surprised, his eyes widening slightly.
âWas this a sin?â I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mix of curiosity and guilt.
He smiled, his lips curving into a playful grin. âI donât think so.â
I closed my eyes, feeling his breath tickle my lips as he leaned in closer. Without hesitation, I kissed his other cheek, the warmth of his skin searing against my lips.
I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze once more, and then, almost without thinking, I placed another kiss on his jaw. He let out a soft, appreciative hum that sent a thrill through me.
âDefinitely not a sin,â he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire.
I couldnât help but smile at his words. He tilted his head, brushing his lips over mine, teasing, tasting, but not quite kissing me fully.
And then he kissed me.
His lips met mine with a hunger that took my breath away, his arms tightening around me, pulling me even closer. His kiss was searing, demanding, as if he was pouring all of his unspoken desires, all of his pent-up emotions, into this one moment.
I melted into him, my hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate to keep him close. His fingers tangled in my hair, tugging gently as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a dance that left me dizzy, craving more.
"You taste like strawberries,â he whispered against my lips.
âAnd you taste like trouble,â I replied, my breath hitching as his mouth moved to my neck, placing slow, deliberate kisses.
âGood trouble?â he asked, his tongue tracing a path up to my ear.
âThe best kind,â I breathed, my fingers tangling in his hair, then his lips were on mine again.
His hand moved from my waist to my lower back, pulling me flush against him, the force of his kiss making my head spin. I melted into him, my hands gripping his shoulders as I kissed him back just as fiercely, my body responding to him in a way that felt both foreign and completely natural.
He broke the kiss for a brief moment, his lips hovering just above mine as he whispered, âYou feel this too, donât you?â
His words sent heat pooling low in my belly, and I gasped as he nipped at my bottom lip, his hands sliding down to grip my hips, pulling me flush against him. I could feel the hard length of him pressed against me, a tangible reminder of just how much he wanted this, wanted me.
I nodded, too breathless to speak, my eyes half-closed as I leaned in to kiss him again. He didnât hesitate, capturing my lips in another heated kiss, his hands roaming up my back, holding me so close that I could feel every beat of his heart.
His lips moved to my neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there, and I gasped, the sound swallowed by the crashing waves. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and filled with a desire that mirrored my own.
âSay my name,â he whispered, his breath hot against my ear as he nipped at the lobe. âSay it, love.â
âMattheo,â I gasped, my voice barely recognizable as my own, filled with a longing I could no longer deny.
He kissed me again, his lips crashing against mine with a fervor that made my knees weak. His hands gripped my hips tighter, pulling me closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past my lips to tangle with mine in a dance of want and need.
I was lost in him, in the sensation of his body pressed against mine, his lips claiming me in a way that felt both dangerous and exhilarating. I knew there would be no going back from this, that whatever we were doing, whatever was happening between us, it was irreversible.
A distant sound broke through the haze of our moment. I froze, my ears straining to identify it. Voicesâyoung, excited, and getting closer. I turned my head, my eyes scanning the shoreline, and spotted a group of boys arriving at the beach, their laughter carried on the wind.
âWe should probably get out,â I whispered, my heart still racing from our kiss but now tinged with the awareness of being seen.
He nodded, pressing one last, lingering kiss to my lips before we reluctantly pulled apart. The water felt cooler as we waded back to shore, the spell of our private world slowly dissipating with each step.
Once we were out of the water, I sat on the towel, feeling the rough fabric beneath me as I tried to steady my breath. He reached for another towel and draped it over my shoulders, his touch still warm, comforting.
He stood there for a moment, his eyes lingering on me before he sat down. I looked at him, taking in the way the sunlight caught in his hair, the way his skin glistened with droplets of water. He was beautiful, devilishly beautiful, with the kind of allure that made it hard to look away. My eyes traced the lines of his back, the muscles shifting under his skin, and I found myself wishing I could write my name on it, claim him in some small, secret way.
He turned to sit down beside me, his movement breaking the spell of my thoughts. I smiled at him, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks, still flushed from both the water and what had just transpired between us.
Without thinking, I leaned my head on his shoulder, seeking the comfort of his presence. He didnât hesitate, his arm wrapping around me as he held my hand in his. His fingers traced gentle circles on the back of my hand, the touch sending soothing waves through my body, calming the lingering adrenaline.
He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead, his lips soft against my skin. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the moment, feeling safe and cherished in a way I hadnât felt in a long time.
It had been a week since that day on the beach, and I had never felt so alive, so completely consumed by happiness. Every thought, every breath, seemed to revolve around him. The world felt brighter, more vibrant, as if everything had been infused with color. I was caught in a whirlwind of emotions, and I didnât want it to stop.
I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in thoughts of him, when my mother knocked softly on the door. She poked her head in, smiling.
âYouâre coming, right?â she asked, her eyes warm with expectation.
I knew what she meant. I was supposed to go with her to visit her best friend, a plan that had been made long before all of this. But the thought of missing a call from Mattheo, of not seeing him today, was unbearable. I felt like Iâd lose my mind if I didnât see him, if I didnât feel his arms around me, even for just a moment.
I sat up, giving her an apologetic smile. âNo, Mom, Iâm sorry. I donât think I can. Maybe Iâll just take a nap,â I said, hoping she wouldnât press the issue.
She looked at me for a moment, then leaned down and kissed my forehead. âAlright, sweetheart. Get some rest,â she said softly, before leaving the room.
I watched the door close behind her and sighed, sinking back onto my bed. Only half an hour had passed when my phone buzzed, and I scrambled to grab it. His name lit up the screen, and my heart skipped a beat.
âHey, do you want to go out?â Mattheoâs voice was smooth, teasing, and I couldnât help the smile that spread across my face.
âOf course,â I said, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice.
For the past week, we had spent almost every day together, usually at the beach. It was our place, where the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of us. But today, I felt a need for something different, something more.
âCan I come to your house instead?â I asked, trying to sound casual. âI canât risk my father seeing your car⌠and then we can go wherever you want.â
There was a pause on the other end of the line before he answered. âSure, wait for me at the front door.â
I didnât question it, didnât think much of it until I reached his house and texted him that I had arrived. As I waited, I heard voices insideâEnzoâs voice, unmistakable, and loud enough to carry through the walls. I couldnât make out all of what he was saying, but one sentence rang out clearly: âThis is a mistake, brother. This poor girl doesnât deserve that.â
I frowned, my heart tightening with unease. But before I could process what Iâd heard, Mattheo appeared, slipping into the passenger seat of my car. He leaned over, kissing me, his smile bright but somehow not reaching his eyes.
âIs everything okay?â I asked, searching his face.
âOf course, my love,â he said, brushing off my concern.
I hesitated, wanting to believe him, wanting to chase away the shadow that had settled in my chest. âCan we go to the new mall? I heardââ
He cut me off with a smile that felt forced. âI donât like it. Too crowded. How about the beach?â
I tried to return his smile, but it didnât come as easily as before. âWe always go to the beach,â I said, watching him carefully. His eyes were distant, like his mind was somewhere else entirely.
âHey, whatâs wrong?â I asked, my voice softening.
He blinked, as if pulling himself back to the present. âOh, nothing,â he said, his smile returning, though it still didnât reach his eyes.
âThe beach sounds good,âI said something hoping that it will make him smile as well.
he nodded, even though I knew something was off. I didnât push it, not yet. Instead, I drove us to the beach, the familiar route doing little to ease the tension between us.
Once we arrived, the wind was soft against my skin, and the waves lapped at the shore, but the usual magic of the place felt dimmed by whatever was weighing on him. We walked in silence for a bit, the sand cool beneath our feet, until I finally couldnât take it anymore. I stopped, turning to face him, reaching out to touch his arm.
âMattheo,â I said, my voice a mix of concern and affection. âYou know you can tell me anything, right?â
He looked down at me, his eyes searching mine as if trying to decide whether to let me in or keep me at a distance. But before he could answer, I rose onto my toes, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that was meant to chase away the darkness I saw in him.
His arms came around me, pulling me closer, and for a moment, everything else faded away. His kiss was slow, intense, as if he was trying to pour all of his unspoken thoughts into that one gesture. I felt the tension in his body, the way he held onto me like I was his anchor, keeping him from drifting into whatever storm was brewing inside him.
When we finally pulled apart, I rested my forehead against his, my breath coming in soft gasps. âI care about you,â I whispered, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. âWhatever it is, we can face it together.â
He looked at me, his gaze softer now, though still shadowed by something I couldnât quite name.
As I looked up, I heard a soundâa bottle hitting the ground. Both Mattheo and I turned to see Inez, a fellow Hogwarts student, standing a few feet away. She seemed startled, her eyes wide with confusion and shock as she stared at us. I wasn't close to her, but I knew she was Betty's best friend. Mattheo's reaction caught my attention; he looked tense, a mix of anger, confusion, and nervousness flashing across his face. They exchanged a look, something unspoken passing between them, before she hurried away without a word.
"Was this Inez?" I asked, breaking the silence. Mattheo nodded, still staring at the spot where she had been standing.
After that, it felt like he was with me physically, but his mind was somewhere else. The rest of the day passed in a haze, and the following day he didnât call or text. He wasnât at the beach, our usual spot. Worry gnawed at me, and I sent him a message.
"Hey, are you okay?" I texted, hoping for a quick response. But it went on delivered, a silent mockery of my concern.
The next day came and went, and still, there was nothing. I tried again.
"Is everything alright? Did something happen?" I sent, my anxiety growing with each unanswered message.
Another day passed, and desperation seeped into my words.
"Did I do something wrong?" I typed, my fingers trembling slightly. "Please, just let me know."
By the end of the week, my heart felt heavy with worry and fear. I sat on my bed, tears stinging my eyes as I typed out another message.
"I miss you, Mattheo. I'm afraid... Please talk to me."
As I pressed send, a sob escaped my lips, and I felt the hot tears roll down my cheeks. The silence was deafening, crushing me with its weight. I started to type again, my breath coming in shaky gasps.
"Are you ghosting me?" I wrote, my vision blurring with tears. The thought of being abandoned, of him leaving without a word, tore at my heart.
Then, it happened. I watched in horror as all my messages changed to "Seen." He had read themâevery single one. But there was no response, no explanation. Just the cold, stark confirmation that he was ignoring me.
I couldnât breathe. My chest tightened, and my vision swam. Panic surged through me, and I clutched at my throat, gasping for air. The room spun, and I felt like I was drowning in a sea of despair. My body shook as I tried to steady my breathing, but the panic was overwhelming.
Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the raw, suffocating fear that gripped me. I curled into myself, feeling utterly alone and broken. The world felt like it was collapsing around me, the silence between Mattheo and me a chasm that threatened to swallow me whole.
Something had changed. I could feel it in the air, a shift that made my skin prickle with unease. It wasn't just paranoia; there was a new intensity in the way people looked at me. Their eyes followed me, but not in a nice way. They whispered, heads bent together, glancing at me with something close to disgust. I had no idea why.
I hadnât left the house since that day, too wrapped up in my own misery to face the world. But today, my father had insisted I go out, needing me to pick up something for my mother. Reluctantly, I agreed, knowing I couldnât hide forever.
As I walked, a group of girls passed by, one of them, no more than fourteen, muttering just loud enough for me to hear, "A slut." My eyes widened in shock, and I turned to confront her, but she was already walking away. Why would she call me that?
Stunned, I got into my car, my hands shaking slightly. I couldnât shake the feeling of being watched, judged. Instead of heading home, I found myself driving towards the beach, seeking the familiar comfort of the waves and sand.
When I arrived, I parked the car and stepped out, the salty air filling my lungs. I knew he wouldnât be here, but still, I felt a pull towards our place. As I walked, I noticed groups of people scattered along the shore. And then, it started againâthe whispers, the sideways glances, the expressions of disdain.
âWhat are you doing here, Y/N? Searching for someone else's man to steal?â Martha Grey, one of my classmates, called out, sarcasm dripping from her voice. She clung to her boyfriendâs arm protectively, her eyes narrowed at me.
âWhat?â I asked, bewildered. The accusation hit me like a slap, leaving me reeling.
âWould you fuck single boys, Y/N, or just the taken ones?â a boy sneered, stepping so close that I almost stumbled back.
âSheâs shameless,â another girl muttered, loud enough for me to hear.
âHomewrecker,â someone else hissed.
âA whore with no shame.â
âSlut.â
âUgly bitch.â
âYou really have the nerve to show your face after what you did?â
âCheap.â
âWho does she think she is? I mean, look at her and look at Betty. Did Mattheo lose his mind?â
âTrash.â
âDid you think you could just get away with it?â
âDesperate for attention, arenât you?â
âI guess sheâll do anything for a bit of male attention.â
âPathetic.â
âSheâs just a desperate little thing.â
âDoesnât she have any self-respect?â
âSheâll never be as good as Betty.â
âI heard she practically threw herself at him.â
âMattheo probably just felt sorry for her.â
âSheâs disgusting.â
I stood there, frozen, as the insults kept coming, each one slicing through me like a blade. My ears rang with their harsh words, my vision blurring with unshed tears. I wanted to scream, to run, to hide. But my legs felt like they were glued to the ground, and all I could do was stand there and take it.
Why were they saying these things? What had I done to deserve this? The pain in my chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. I felt like I was being suffocated, drowning in their hatred and contempt. All I wanted was to disappear, to escape the nightmare that my life had suddenly become.
"Can't believe she had the nerve to come here."
"She probably thinks she's some sort of seductress."
"More like a desperate wannabe."
"Does she really think she stands a chance against Betty?"
"Mattheo's way out of her league, it's embarrassing."
"Honestly, it's pathetic."
"She should just disappear, no one wants her around."
My heart sank with each word, each cruel remark cutting deeper than the last. The weight of their scorn was suffocating, and I felt tears pricking at my eyes. I had no idea what they were talking about or why they were so angry with me. The confusion and hurt were overwhelming, and I could feel a panic attack rising in my chest, the world spinning around me.
Someone's voice broke through the barrage of insults. âIâm glad Betty forgave him and didnât let this ugly slut destroy what they have.â
With that, I walked away, the words still echoing in my ears. Their taunts didn't stop even as I put my hands over my ears, trying to block them out. They always said I was too sensitive, too weak. I was used to those words, but this wasn't something I felt like I could handle. Their attention, their eyes on me, their wordsâthose words.
I walked faster to my car, closing the doors and windows before bursting into tears. How I managed to drive, almost crashing several times, I didnât know. My body felt cold, shaking, and numb as I finally reached his house. The way to the door felt like forever.
With a shaking hand, I knocked weakly, hoping someone would hear it. The door opened, and even through my tears, I could see it was Enzo.
âY/N, oh Merlin,â he said, trying to comfort me, but I flinched.
âItâs okay,â he said gently, stepping aside to let me in.
I walked in and saw Mattheo sitting on the couch. His eyes widened as he stood up quickly.
âYou said you broke up,â I said, my voice trembling. No, he said it was over, nothing about a breakup, I corrected myself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
âWe were on a break,â he said, his expression a mix of guilt and confusion.
âYou said you broke up with her,â I repeated, more to myself than him.
âWe were on a break,â he said again.
âThatâs not the same thing,â I said, taking a deep breath. âNot the same thing,â I repeated.
âYou lied to me, you ghosted me, and you... you went andâandââ I didn't even know how to finish the sentence.
âI didnât mean to hurt you,â he said, his voice softer.
I felt like passing out, but I blinked the tears away and asked, âYou didnât?â
âNo, Y/N, I didnât mean for any of this to happen,â he said. Was it me? Did I really throw myself at him? No, no, no, I didnâtâ You kissed him first, my mind said. But on the cheek, I argued back. Keep telling yourself that, it sneered. No, he did.
I was losing my mind.
âChase two girls, lose the one, right?â I said, tears falling heavily. âAnd it wasnât even me. Iâm not the one It wasnât even my story.â
âY/N,â he tried, but I cut him off.
âPlease donât say my name. Please donât try to explain anything,â I said, feeling like I was about to collapse if not for Enzoâs hands supporting me.
âYou did that. I had no idea it was you, but no one is pointing their fingers at you. No one is calling you the things they are calling me. No one is saying it was your fault or calling you an ugly bitch. No one is calling you a homewrecker, so donâtâdonât explain anything,â I said, and they were looking at me. I wanted to scream at him, they were looking at me now because of you.
Mattheo stepped closer, but Enzo shook his head at him.
âEverything is back to its place now. August is already over,â I said. Yes, everything is back to its place except for me. Nothing is the same, nothing will ever be the same.
I pulled away from Enzo and walked to the door, stepping out of the house.
âY/N, wait,â Enzo called, but I ignored him and walked to my car.
âLet me drive you home, please. You canât go like that,â he said, and I shook my head.
âY/N, please,â he pleaded, but I kept shaking my head.
I got into my car, closing the doors. He looked at me with sympathy, and I felt bad for shutting him out like that. But I should feel bad for myself, for what his brother did to me, for what he knew was happening but didnât tell me.
I saw him get into his car. My hands were shaking, my vision blurred as I started to drive. Enzoâs car followed behind, making sure I made it home.
I got out of the car once I reached my house, not even looking back, not having the energy.
I stepped into my house, the quiet enveloping me like a shroud. I walked to my room, but stopped short when I saw my parents standing inside. They turned to look at me, and my fatherâs eyes were filled with a cold anger.
"What is this?" he demanded, holding the red wine bottle in his hand.
The sight of it brought more tears to my eyes. If that night hadnât happened, if I hadnât found Mattheo, if I hadnât helped him...
"What is it?" my father repeated, his voice rising. "Shame, shame on you."
"Give it back to me," I said, trying to take the bottle from his hands. My mother, knowing better, tried to step between us, but he pushed her away.
"I said, give it back!" I yelled, and then I felt itâpain, sharp and hot, as his hand struck my cheek. He hit me again.
I screamed and lunged at him, trying to wrest the bottle from his grip. He struggled, but didnât fall.
"Give it back, give it back, give it back to me!" I cried, hitting his chest, my nails scratching at his hands, anything I could reach. He grabbed my hair, and something inside me snapped.
Enoughâenough. Iâve had enough.
I started hitting him in the chest, my nails digging into his skin. He was shocked, and I didnât stop.
"Get out! Get out! We hate you! We donât want you! Get out!" I screamed.
My nails raked his hands again, trying to get the bottle.
"Donât you dare put your hands on me or Mother again! I will use my wand. I will cast a spell on you to torture you. I donât care! I donât care about the consequences! Get out!" I screamed, and finally, he released his grip. The bottle fell to the ground, shattering into pieces.
He stumbled out of the room, then out of the house. I fell to my knees, touching the broken shards, crying hard.
My mother knelt down, trying to pull me away. "No, no," I said.
"Itâs okay, sweetheart. Iâll clean it up," she said, but I panicked.
"You canât. You canât, please, no," I said, my fingers bleeding as I touched the pieces.
"It wasnât mine," I said, though I knew I wasnât just talking about the bottle.
"It wasnât mine, Mother. It wasnât mine," I repeated, crying even harder. "It wasnât mine to lose. It wasnât mine to lose."
She finally managed to pull my bleeding hands away and hugged me tightly. I cried into her arms, sobbing for Mattheo, for myself, for everything that had gone wrong.
The rest of the summer passed in a blur of anguish and solitude. I found myself on the Hogwarts Express, not knowing how I was going to face the coming year. It didn't stopâthe whispers, the sidelong glances, the barely concealed disdain. They had finally notified me that there was no coming back from this. Their eyes found me, and they whispered, not caring whether their words were good or bad. I was sure they were bad.
The journey to Hogwarts felt faster than ever, though I knew it wasn't. It was just that I dreaded every moment, and that dread made time fly. When the train finally stopped, I got out, trying to stay out of sight as much as possible.
As we reached the castle, I saw herâBetty. She stood there, as pretty as always. Unlike the others, her eyes held sympathy, and I hated that. I wanted Betty to give me a reason to hate her, but she couldn't. She was like an angel on earth, everything I wasnât and could never be.
I walked inside, ignoring everything around me. I didnât care which house the first years were going to be sorted into, even though I had always loved that part. Not this time. This time, I just wanted to hide.
Then I saw himâMattheo. Our eyes met for a brief second before he looked away, walking past me as if I didnât exist. Maybe I didnât anymore, at least not for him. I didnât have to look back to see where he was going; I already knew. So, I just walked to my dorm, feeling more invisible than ever.
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Review: "While the City Sleeps" by Elizabeth Camden
Iâm sharing a review for While the City Sleeps, a new release (this week!) from author Elizabeth Camden. This is a historical romance that starts a new âWomen of Midtownâ series set in early 1900s NYC. Katherine Schneiderâs workaday life as a dentist in 1913 New York is upended when a patient reveals details of a deadly plot while under the influence of laughing gas. As she is plunged intoâŚ
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#Bethany House#Book#book review#Elizabeth Camden#Historical Fiction#Historical Romance#literature#NYC#read#Reading#Romance#While the City Sleeps
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