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I lower my head, still protecting the flower with everything I have left in me.
The knife folds underneath my chin, forcing me to look up. “Your life?”
“I have nothing if I don’t have that flower,” I respond.
He cocks his head and makes a tsk sound. “Pathetic.”
Then he tucks his knife back into his belt and shakes his head. “Fine. Keep that dried-up piece of wilted grass.” He spits on the floor in front of me. “Live with this fucking scar as a reminder of your disobedience.”
“Yes, sir,” I say through gritted teeth.
He kicks me in the stomach, making me buck and heave, but I continue to clutch the wall to make sure no one touches my precious gift.
“And clean up the fucking mess you made. I want this place spick-and-span by morning. I don’t care how long it takes you or if you get no sleep at all.” He turns around and walks out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
The other trainees all look at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“What?” I bark at them.
They all scurry off to bed like rats running for cover.
And when there’s no one left to judge me, I simply turn and watch over the tiny little flower resting in that small nook inside the wall.
Even if my face and body are now marred for life … it was worth it.
CHAPTER14
Aurora
Present
His story movesme so much it brings me to tears.
His hand rises to meet my face, and he touches the droplets with his thumb. “Why are you crying?”
“You got this scar … because of that flower. Because of me.”
He tips my chin up, making me look at him. “I got this scar because Ichoseto protect that flower. It was important to me, more important than life itself.” He grabs my hand and brings it to his chest, right where his heart is. “Ichooseto protect what I care about. You.”
Now it’s even more impossible to stop the waterworks.
And I lean in to press a soft but powerful kiss on his lips, hoping I can say what it means to me without words.
All of his pain, all of his sacrifices, led him to this moment.
Led him to me.
And even if it’s wrong, I still feel grateful.
Grateful that in all of his suffering, he found his way back to me.
* * *
We sleepthrough the days and the nights, waking only to kiss, make love, eat, and shower. Our days are spent resting and recovering from our wounds, both physical and mental. Every night I wake up drenched in sweat, only to realize I’m safe in his broad arms nestled around me like a cocoon.
He protects me as if I’m the only thing that matters to him in this entire world, and something about that makes me feel so special. So … loved.
And it’s a kind of love I haven’t experienced before. What I look like doesn’t seem to matter anymore—only what I do, my intentions, my emotions.
