Page 172 of Stolen Bruises


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And the last one… Aly.

Of course she went overboard.

A small Cartier box.

I froze just holding it, too scared to even open it. I wasn’t familiar with brand-name stuff, but I heard Cartier was expensive. I didn’t know how much, butexpensive.

When I finally opened it, there was a gold ring inside. Elegant, with a tiny diamond in the centre.

It was gorgeous.

Aly had the same one—Silver—on her middle finger.

Her note was the shortest of them all:

“Wanted to match with my favourite girl, wear it!”

My vision blurred a little.

I sat down on the floor surrounded by gifts, rings, books, soft wool, and messy ribbons.

I didn’t realise how much I needed this. How much I needed to feel chosen, even when I didn’t ask to be.

And as I slipped the ring onto my finger, I caught myself whispering, “Maybe it’ll all get better.”

Then I glanced at my phone, at the time.

Joshua.

Dinner.

Fireworks.

Tonight.

Maybe it already was better.


The time came. I went into the elevator a few minutes before seven and arrived at the door at exactly seven.

Not on purpose, of course, just a girl who’s good with time.

I knocked once.

The door opened almost immediately, and there he was.

Joshua Lockhart, barefoot, sleeves rolled up, hoodie on, Honey tucked into the hood like a spoilt baby koala. Cute, though. And the faintest curl of steam drifted from the kitchen behind him.

“Come in,” he said quietly, stepping aside.

The second I did, I froze.

Because the smell came first: garlic, lemon, butter, roasted asparagus. Salmon. And not like the cheap dorm-cafeteria kind. The kind that looked like it belonged in a restaurant window.

The table was already set.

Two plates. Two glasses. Even candles.