Sixty hearts blue 2

Stephen stepped into the bookshop, the familiar scent of ink and paper wrapping around him. He moved through the aisles with ease, fingertips grazing the spines, searching for the science nonfiction book he had in mind. The quiet hum of conversation, the occasional rustle of pages—it was a comfort, a routine.

Just as his hand hovered over a title, a soft tap on his shoulder made him turn.

"Michael told me I'd find you here," Lisa said, a small smile playing on her lips.

Stephen exhaled. Of course, Michael had sent her. He placed the book back, his gaze flickering to a group of girls giggling as they passed, eyes darting between him and Lisa. She looked different now—older, more confident. The soft glow of bookstore lighting caught the shimmer of a belly ring just visible beneath her cropped top.

"You haven't changed," she murmured, studying him.

She had thought of him every day since leaving for London, even while she was with Liam. The guilt of loving someone else while dreaming of Stephen had finally driven her to end it.

"Five years, right?" she said, extending her hand.

"Yeah," he replied, shaking it briefly before letting go.

Lisa hesitated, shifting closer, drawn to him like always. "What have you been up to?"

"Accounting at Chevron." His tone was steady, detached. "London?"

She had a thousand stories—late-night walks, quiet dinners alone after she became single—but she only said, "It was nice."

Stephen arched a brow. "That's it?"

Lisa swallowed. "Did you get my gift? Michael said you did."

Silence. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes.

"I didn't," he said finally.

Lisa's chest tightened. "Why? Didn't you like it?"

She had chosen the fragrance carefully—one she wore herself, something rare, something special. She had wrapped it with hope, imagining him holding it, thinking of her.

Stephen ran a hand through his hair, looking uneasy. "I never saw it."

Lisa exhaled sharply, masking her disappointment. "It's fine. You never really appreciate anything I do for you anyway," she muttered under her breath, then forced a smile. "Still a book lover, I see."

"What's life without books?" He reached for a thick, blue-covered title, his expression lighter now.

Lisa watched him, fighting the ache in her chest. She wanted to be seen, to be chosen.

"I'm into dark fiction," she said. "Buy me one?"

Stephen glanced at her, then nodded. "Pick one."

She returned moments later, holding up The Dark Tower.

"It's book two in the series," she admitted, wishing she had found the first.

"Should be interesting," Stephen said, flipping through another book.

Lisa tucked it under her arm. "I'm sorry I didn't ask about your grandmother."

Stephen stilled for a fraction of a second before meeting her gaze. Lisa had spent so many afternoons at Grandma Jones's house, not for the tea or the old stories, but for him. The old woman had noticed, often leaving them alone with a knowing wink.

"She's fine," Stephen said, voice polite but distant. "You don't have to visit."

Lisa's fingers curled slightly. "Why not?"

Before he could answer, a blonde girl approached. Her cheeks were flushed—too much blush—and her eyes darted between them with barely concealed curiosity.

"Hi, I'm Gina," she said, then after a calculated pause, "Roselle's friend."

Lisa stiffened. Gina's tone made it clear—Roselle was important.

Gina's gaze lingered on Stephen's hoodie. "Love it. Looks comfy."

Stephen forced a smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Gina tossed her hair over her shoulder and sauntered toward the romance section.

Lisa turned back to Stephen, her voice quieter now. "Who's Roselle?"

Stephen didn't hesitate. "My girlfriend."

Lisa's breath hitched.

The words shouldn't have hurt this much. But they did.

"You… you have a girlfriend," she echoed, as if saying it aloud would make it easier to believe.

"Yeah," he said simply. "And I love her very much."

The final blow. Lisa's grip tightened around the book, her nails pressing into the cover.

"I'll pay for it," Stephen said, already walking toward the cashier.

Numbly, Lisa followed, her heart heavier with every step.

***********

Roselle's heart leaped as she spotted Stephen approaching. A grin spread across her face as she rushed to unlock the door. With her mother gone until evening, the day was theirs.

As soon as he stepped inside, she wrapped her arms around him, inhaling the familiar scent of him. "How are you, my love?" she murmured, her voice sweet and warm.

Stephen's arms tightened around her waist. "Better now." His eyes traced the contours of her smile. "I brought chocolates."

Her face lit up as she took them from him. "You always know how to make me happy." Their gazes lingered, tension crackling between them until she broke the moment with a soft question. "How was your day?"

"Boring without you." He led her to the couch, fingers sliding through her soft brown hair. "I think about you all the time, Rose."

She blushed as he took her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. When he rested his head in her lap, she stroked his face, tracing every line she loved.

"I got the admission," she whispered, running her fingers through his hair. He was the first person she wanted to tell.

Stephen bolted upright. "Finally!" He pulled her into a tight embrace, remembering the long nights spent tutoring her, the moments she almost gave up.

"I don't want to go," Roselle admitted, a weight pressing on her chest. Leaving meant being far from him.

Stephen brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Why not?"

"I won't see you every day. I don't want to miss you."

His thumb grazed her cheek. "That's why we have phone calls, Rose. We'll make it work."

"It's not the same."

"This is for your future." His voice softened. "Your mom will be proud. I am too."

She bit her lip. "I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"That another girl will take your attention. I see how they look at you." The jealousy she'd buried finally surfaced.

Stephen didn't blink. "I don't see anyone but you." His words were quiet, steady, true.

Tears welled in her eyes. Stephen caught them with his thumb, his heart twisting. "No, no, don't cry."

She buried her face in his chest, breathing him in. "Promise me you'll never leave."

He held her tighter. "I promise." His voice softened playfully. "Never, ever, ever." When she gave a small, reluctant smile, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

A buzz from his pocket shattered the moment. He ignored it, but the phone rang again.

"It's an unknown number," he muttered.

"Answer it," Roselle urged.

With a sigh, he picked up. "Hello?"

A brief hesitation. "Stephen?" The voice wavered, uncertain.

His brows knit. "Who is this?"

"It's Lisa." A nervous inhale. "I got your number from Michael."

Stephen closed his eyes briefly. Of course, Michael. "Okay." His voice was neutral.

Lisa, perched at her vanity, ran a manicured hand over her styled hair. She'd spent the past half-hour perfecting her makeup, applying perfume, nude lipstick. She imagined what this conversation would lead to—seeing him, being close, even if just for a night.

"Are you home?" she asked, hopeful.

Stephen exhaled. "No. Why?"

"I was going to visit your grandma, but since you're not home, never mind." Her voice dipped with disappointment, but Stephen wasn't about to invite her over.

"Alright," he muttered, ready to hang up.

"…Would you be my date? Just for the night."

Silence.

His chest tightened. "Come again?"

"My uncle's throwing a party," Lisa said, voice trembling, desperate. "I was hoping you'd go with me."

She knew she was grasping at straws, but losing him felt unbearable. She'd loved him quietly, for years. Now, he was slipping away.

Stephen's voice was gentle but firm. "I can't. I'm sorry."

Lisa stared at her reflection, her heart aching. Was she not enough? What did Roselle have that she didn't?

Roselle had been patient, but curiosity gnawed at her. "Who was that?"

Stephen kissed her hand, a soothing gesture. "Lisa. We went to the same high school."

"What did she want?"

He hesitated. "To visit my grandma." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.

Roselle's eyes narrowed. "Does she like you?"

Stephen hesitated a beat too long. "I don't think so."

They sat in thick silence. Then Stephen leaned in, voice soft, unwavering. "I love you."

He kissed her, slow and deep, hoping to erase every doubt lingering in her heart.