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CHAPTER EIGHT. i'm overcome in this war of hearts
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THE NEXT morning when Feyre Blanchard opened her eyes to a whole new day, she felt different.
She expected to wake up feeling that same inescapable sense of fear and dread. The same feeling she always felt after a long night of slumber, left lost and trapped in the midst of her own harrowing nightmares. It had become a part of her morning routine at this point. Feyre expected to feel scared, disoriented, and anxious by the time she was free from the shackles of her never-ending dreamscape. It was a daily reoccurrence that Feyre had been forced to accept. One she had grown accustomed to as the years passed her bye since she first stepped foot into the camp she called home.
However, this morning was not the same as all the others. . . because Feyre didn't feel fear, nor did she feel confused. She felt light. She felt joyful. She felt like she was falling in love with her best friend.
Feyre believed love was a strong word. She wasn't even sure if that's what she truly felt because would she be able to say that she loved Luke to his face? Would she be able to tell him with full admiration burning deep within her chest cavity that her beating heart belonged to him and him only? She didn't think so. Feyre has never experienced love. She didn't know how or what that was suppose to feel like. How could she tell her best friend she was in love with him when she didn't know what that truly meant deep down. She was nothing more than a teenage girl chasing a fantasy. But was that the reasoning behind her new feelings for Luke Castellan. . . A fantasy?
As the boy crossed her mind again, she felt this twinge tie knots in the pit of her stomach, wrapping around each other and turning her insides into a puddle of butterflies fluttering from her stomach and into her chest cavity where her heart resided. Feyre would see flashes of Luke in her head: his smile, the twinkle that glimmered in his dark, brown eyes, and she would even hear his laughter like a distant echo in the back of her skull. It sounded like a beautiful symphony to her ears, and she could listen to it like a broken record for the rest of her life if given the chance.
