Sitting on the park bench that surrounded the autumn leaves, as they whirled across his chiselled face in the chilly atmosphere, Jacob stared relentlessly at the contents of his screen, the last prominent message still unread. He sighed in frustration, the autumn wind carrying a nostalgia of distant memories and discoloured, fallen leaves. A year. It had been a year since the break-up had been actualised, but the wound, the fatal wound that left his heart tattered, was as fresh as the scent of her rosy perfume.

Emmaline was a metaphorical combination of joy and temptation. She was the kind of girl that brightened up an atmosphere full of straight-backed businessmen, just by her very presence. They had subsequently found each other's souls through a bookstore. Grabbing a book, both hands (masculine and slender) touched, igniting the electric spark that disarmed him. That bright, kind, vivacious little side-smile.

Their love had been straight out of the pages of an intense, romantic scene. Passionate, consuming, fiery; the very core of a relationship, just as well however, volatility circumvented their relations. Arguments could flare up like unexpected thunderstorms, whirling in the air, sudden and vast. Yet, every fight seemed to fade away with beautiful flourishing of tender kisses and soft smiles.

All of Jacob's close ones never truly understood why he held onto something that was marred by the past. "Why her?"