Even after all the deaths she’d witnessed, the years on the run, the constant fear that had buried its way somewhere deep in her bones, she was still a hopeless romantic.
“I once thought that I’d marry for love.”
Read the rest of this entry »
Black, Tatiana had decided, was not the color of mourning. White was.
She was carefree and young and hadn’t yet experienced heartbreak and, to her, this was just another new adventure, a cup of tea she hadn’t tried yet.
Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.