{Book II of The Hearts Series}
[hiatus]
❝Love, was never worth it.❞
***
Danielle Williams lived a normal life.
That was until Martin Grey, her loving boyfriend, accused her of murdering his mother, holding an army of proof to back him up.
Now the...
{The bravest thing she ever did was stay alive each day}
Atticus
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**A Month Prior To The Article**
"Hey there," came the deep voice of the man beside her, as she watched the handsome groom carry the laughing bride away.
She turned to face him.
"Jason!?" She replied, shock lacing her voice. She had been too distracted by the beautiful sight before her, to realize that she had automatically walked towards the front.
"Ah, so you do know my name," he smirked.
"Uh, yea," she replied, pushing her glasses higher up her nose-a nervous habit. "Kindergarten, remember?" she burst out.
His eyebrows crunched together in thoughtful recollection. "I'm sorry. That was a really long time ago. I don't-"
"It's alright," she replied, a small pang hitting her as the events of all those years ago rolled through her thoughts like a movie.
***
"I think you look really pretty," the little boy said to her, handing her a rose.
Danielle blushed red. Very red.
"Thank you," she replied.
"What's your name?" he asked, walking next to her as her gaze refused to meet his.
She looked at the flower that lay in her tiny hands and then at the green grass of the park.
"Danielle," she replied, still not meeting his gaze. "What's yours?"
"I'm Jason," he said, and she saw him giving her a theatrical bow from the corner of her eye. "Can I call you Nielle?" he asked.
When he said her name, she felt a smile slip on to her face, highlighting the small but distinct dimple on her right cheek. She pushed her pink coloured glasses up her nose nervously.
"Okay," she replied, nodding.
"I like you, Nielle." Said Jason, holding her hand, successively stopping her from walking forward. She looked up into his striking blue eyes, her murky brown ones reflecting how confused she was.
She wasn't that pretty. Not so pretty that a-a boy could like her.
"Really?" she asked, disbelief etched in her voice.
Her mama, with her sea-green eyes and her beach blonde hair-that was always perfectly in place, was pretty. Her sister-who was a perfect replica of her mama was pretty.
She, on the other hand with her thick raven hair, muddy brown eyes, that couldn't even be seen because of her large pink glasses, and pale skin-that would soon turn pimply, wasn't pretty.
