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Love from the ashes

Love, Betrayal, Blood, but not Hatred. Only cold revenge, and a son to complete the family. "D" Section, a nonexistent military unit. "D" for dark, "D" for depth, "D"... for death. It demanded no attachment, and Daemon sacrificed love for it. Years later, the death of his teammates made him feel that he had done enough for the country, so he came back to the city he grew in. But can what has been forsaken be gained back? Because now Evelyn, the one to have breathed vitality in his numb, orphaned heart, had her own life, and a little boy calling her mother. Also, while he left his life full of dead bodies behind, did that life really let him go? From the ashes, will it love or... ? _ _ _ Two lovers who still love each other even with scars left behind by past events. They narrowly miss a chance to meet again and rekindle the lost spark, with him left with an empty heart, and her with her pain renewed, only buried because of the sun of her life, her son, their son… that he knew nothing about. They each continue with their own life in their own way. Their paths even almost become parallel to each other, almost taking the opposite direction with new commitments. But fate be damned, even if it now seems to push them toward each other. From the ashes, their love shall blaze anew. Or maybe not. Find the answer yourself. ___ First draft of characters image on my discord, a channel for fans to get together: https://discord.com/invite/C86EJvCJdd Comment and review, don't forget.

LifeDayDreams · Thành thị
Không đủ số lượng người đọc
278 Chs

137 - From the ashes

Evelyn wore a long-sleeved white cotton t-shirt with cutouts on the shoulders, along with jeans pants, and heeled sandals. She didn't use a long time to comb her hair, letting it frame her face while resting on her back. She distractedly added a very light touch of makeup to her face, her mind on the expression Daemon had on his face earlier.

He had been calm, not cold, nor indifferent, but very calm. And he had been less intense than the night they met in the bar, the only time he had not shown a smile in front of her. She couldn't help but force herself not to think about the promise that was not even one day old, about whether she had been wrong to hope, contrary to what she had decided that night in the cab she took to run away from her nightly workplace. Maybe she should have lived with her unhealed scars, full of expectations, and without hopes that could crash down, or be crushed.