Abstract of the book "Loving What You Despise"

I always wanted him. That’s the most pathetic part of all. I wanted him when I was nothing more than the little sister of his best executioner, when he didn’t even know my name. I loved him in silence, with that foolish tenderness only naive girls are capable of. And I made the mistake of telling him. I handed him my heart, expecting… I don’t know what. Mockery? That would have been mercy. Instead, I listened to every poisonous word as he explained to Zamira, right in front of me, why someone like me—weak, sentimental, insignificant, and plain—would never, under any circumstance, be to his liking. I wanted to hate him. But my heart turned traitor, refusing to forget him. So I did the only thing someone who doesn’t know how to be cruel can do: I walked away.