One day, as I was working at the cafe, I saw Priscoll walk in,who told him I work here, or had he been following me? My heart skipped a beat as our eyes met. He looked tired and worn out, but his eyes still held that same intensity.
"Joanna," he said, his voice low and husky. "Can we talk?"
I hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. But something about Priscoll's expression made me nod.
We sat down at a quiet table in the corner, and Priscoll took my hand in his.
"Joanna, I know I messed up," he said, his eyes pleading. "But I love you. I want to make things right between us."
I felt a lump form in my throat as I looked at Priscoll. A part of me still loved him, but another part was scared of getting hurt again.
"Priscoll, I...I don't know," I stammered.
Priscoll's face fell, but he didn't let go of my hand.
"Please, Joanna," he whispered. "Just give me another chance."
