His Poisoned Love, My Shattered Heart

Frazie

e impo

knife. A bitter, self-deprecating laugh escaped my lips. I looked at Dale, t

oed, her soft lips brushing against Dale' s jawline. He didn't pull away. He just stood there, letting her mark her

phone buzzed again. It was Dale. His voice was hoarse, tinged with a nervous edge. "Di

ears welled up, salty and bitter, tracing paths down my face. I co

ust come back up, okay? Let's talk."

y voice flat, devoid of emotion, and hung up. I

howered on me – the designer clothes, the jewelry, the limited-edition art pieces. Valuables that once symbolized his love now felt

mile to my lips. It was from our very first date, a weekend trip to Paris. He had kept it, a memento of new beginnings. The tenth, a surprise anniversary tri

y tender moment was seared into my mind. A decade of love, etched i

flames danced, consuming the fragile remnants of our past. The warmth they generated was fleeting, quickly replaced by a chilling empti

a thousand untold sorrows. I couldn't speak, couldn't scream, cou

one. No debts, no ling