As an only child, everything was mine—toys, clothes, even my parents' attention.
Sharing was a foreign concept, something other children fought over in the playground.
Even the idea of willingly giving something up felt...
Wrong.
I remember one particularly brutal fight over a doll with a visiting cousin.
Tears streamed down my face, a primal possessiveness clawing at my throat.
Even at a young age, I knew I wasn't like the other children.
They seemed content with taking turns, with halves of cookies and borrowed toys.
Me?
I craved the comfort of the whole—whether it was whole cookies or toys entirely to myself.
The concept of sharing was a distant planet in my personal galaxy.
Compromise?
Sure, I'd grit my teeth and negotiate a trade for a moment of peace.
But true, heartfelt sharing?
Never.
Especially not tonight.
The bitterness of sharing her scraped at my throat.
Take what you want from me.
Just leave her untouched.
It was a childish urge to brand her—claim her as fiercely as I once claimed every toy, every possession.
It was an intense echo of my spoiled childhood.
But unlike the dolls and stuffed animals of my youth, she couldn't be marked, nor tethered to me by a searing iron.
This new kind of ownership, this yearning, demanded a different kind of brand, one etched not on skin, but on a far more fragile canvas: the human heart.
And I would share mine in exchange for hers.
- Azzy
♛Chapter Forty-Two: False Narratives♛
The familiar quiet of the penthouse seemed to engulf me in a warm, comforting embrace as I kicked off my heels and let my cascading pink hair fall free from its ponytail.
A heavy silence hung between Renata and me, mirroring the quiet ride over in the car.
It felt like deja vu, a scene replaying in a silent movie.
But I didn't have the energy to break it—instead, I decided to stand in front of the bathroom mirror, focusing on brushing out my long pink hair.
Until Renata seemed to gently guide the brush out of my hand—and detangle my hair for me.
"I'm not sure what you want me to say right now," she finally spoke, her voice breaking the tense silence. "I don't know how to make you feel better," she added, her dark eyes now meeting mine through the bathroom mirror.
YOU ARE READING
Fragile Desires (18+)
Romance"Kiss me," I whispered, the need dripping off of my soft voice a tangible weight in the air. Renata leaned closer, sending a jolt through my flushed body. But just before our lips could meet, she paused, her gaze holding mine captive, "You first,"...
