How to Fall in Love ✔

How to Fall in Love (41)

Copyright © 2014 by roastedpiglet (of Wattpad)

          All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author.

Piggy's Note:

Hey, rad, rad, rad peeps of Wattpad! How have you been? \ (•◡•) /

Thank you so much for reading 40 chapters of HTFIL thus far! Thank you as well, to those who've posted on my message board when my doubt kicked in, doubled and magnified, and a herculean part of me wanted to give HTFIL up. But I didn't, because you're here with me. Seriously, you're the best people ever. (>‿◠)✌

Dedicated to @magnafia, for her heartwarming message and a rather mind-boggling advice about not giving the 'hateful woman' Denisse Linares satisfaction by discontinuing this story. Thank you, sweetie. :)

Song to the side is "Let Her Go," by Passenger. \ (•◡•) /

- Myka

❀❃❀❃❀

c h a p t e r  f o r t y - o n e

[  h o w  t o  l e t  h e r  g o  ]

          I knew something.

There was this thing that old people always say whenever someone rose to fame—it will eat you alive, and you won't remember who you really are. You'll forget what you really want, and the little things that once mattered most to you will just be another echo in a sea of forgotten identities.

That must be true for Denisse's case. She must've lost sight of who she really was. She must be on crack coming back here, when she lived in London, had a very tight schedule, and was engaged to a man named Cartel James.

Engaged to Cartel James. Not to Finn Laurel.

My stomach knotted.

You need to let her go.

I looked at Finn, stared at him intently, scared that if I looked away, the matchless connection that I'd formed with him, the fresh understanding that we'd had of each other, would also walk away, dissipating into bubbles without the need for human touch to pop them—because the air that we breathe is enough to obliterate them.

But Finn was sucked in, beguiled, lost all gravity as though the redheaded woman in front of him was the most powerful black hole there ever was, as though she was the world's greatest show, and as though she was the only one that mattered.

I looked away.

Denisse Linares looked triumphant; however, that was expected, for she was a black hole, and a black hole is the ultimate triumph of gravity. Like what was entrenched before, she was a leader—regardless of how possibly mentally insane she was.