What's Left of Our Hearts

Swept by the Undertow

Dominic's breath hitched. Time slowed down and the cacophony of the lobby reduced to low chimes somewhere in a distance. It was as if someone had covered the world with a glass bell. He could see movement around him, hear echoes of voices, but neither his eyes nor ears could focus. The only thing he could see clearly, brilliantly, was her. She was wearing the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life: her smile. It was a smile that brought men to their knees. It was a smile Dom thought he'd never see again, and the rest of his days would be darker for it. It was a smile that sent his heart racing. A trickle of sweat marked its descent down his neck.

So many nights, so, so many nights he'd spent doing everything in his power to forget that smile. So many empty glasses littering bars the names of which he could not remember. Despite the stupor he would drink himself into, the memories would always shine through. Her, in a yellow dress, laughing as she twirled barefoot in the grass, her golden locks the halo of an angel... His angel. She was what saved him, and she was what destroyed him. All these years he had spent convincing himself to move on, and finally figuring out how to continue living, one breath at a time—all of them were a lie. At first, it was hard to keep up the façade. But then people started believing him. Eventually, he even fooled himself. He was a fool, indeed. He realized now he craved that smile like he craved air.

The sun streaming in through the terrace doors set her aglow. She was a brilliant jewel amidst a world of dull, gray rock. Dominic felt himself moving involuntarily towards her, his whole being compelled like a moth to the most enchanting flame. And that was when he noticed the tall man with his arm around Clara. It was like someone had punched him in the stomach.

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