TARA'S POV:
The air in Chicago felt colder than I expected, sharp enough to sting my lungs with every inhale. Maybe it was just me — nerves winding tighter with every step toward the gym doors. My suitcase was still back at the hotel; I hadn't even bothered to check in properly. I needed to see him first.
As Hope Lune, I write stories that bleed emotion — tales of bruised hearts, distant lovers, and healing through chaos. Every word I write is for the ones who feel too much and dream too deep. Your support on Stck.me helps me: Spend more time creating heart-heavy, soul-soft stories Invest in better writing tools, editing, and publishing Keep my stories free and accessible for everyone who needs them If my words have made you feel something — a tear, a smile, or a spark — supporting here is like leaving a flower at the door of my fictional world 🌸 Thank you for reading. Thank you for feeling. Your love keeps this moonlight glowing. 💫
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