Getting over one's first love was always a task people people deemed hard. Ophelia Greengrass, however, finds it to be even harder as she has to get over her first love whilst being engaged to his little brother.
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❝we may be in a love...
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beginning, middle and end.
the beginning and end were always the same, as though twins haunting her at the end of a hotel hallway. it was not the water nor the inability to hold anything that hurt the most, that made this a nightmare, no.
it was the middle. the middle was always the worst part; a sandwich of water and the worst moment of her life.
then, a few seconds, seconds that she would never be able to take back, ophelia greengrass gasped as she arched her back and leaned against her bed-frame. her knees were folded in front of her chest as she cried.
she was no longer drowning in the middle of the ocean, she was drowning in her own sweat and tears. then, the screams came. her ear piercing screams that prompted mr and mrs greengrass to bolt out of their bed and run towards their daughter's room.
meredith greengrass was the first to approach their only child, cradling the frantic girl as she wrapped her arms around her. the redhead woman bended her right hand to reach for the water bottle on her daughter's nightstand.
ophelia grabbed the water and chugged in down her throat, ignoring the urge to recoil at the feeling of water touching her — being inside her. when she finally calmed down, which took longer than usual, apollo greengrass approached his daughter, handing her the muggle chocolate bar she loved.
a part of her hoped her father would embrace her the way her mother was at that moment. yet, the look on his face told ophelia all she need to know. "your nightmares... ophelia. it's time you told your mother and i what your nightmares are about. this has been going on since you were seven! and yet your mother and i, your parents, do not know what it is."
the glare on her mother's face could bring soldiers down on their knees. it was clear they had discussed this before, and it was clear who wants to have this conversation and who doesn't. "apollo, do not push her. we talked about this." talked about me, was what ophelia would have said if she was not busy devouring the chocolate.
the blond man — the parent ophelia stole most of her features from — frowned at his wife, disappointed to find her against him. "how can we help her if we're kept in the dark, meredith!"
she has heard her parents fight, yes, but it didn't help that they were fighting in front of her. most parents had the decency to do it alone. and not after their daughter just to relive an experience she did want to.
"please," ophelia speaks for the first time since she has woken up. her voice was raspy and it wasn't clear if it was either due to the crying or the screaming or just her being sleepy. "no fighting. it doesn't help."
"what would help is if you told us," apollo said, placing his hands on his hips as though he was a merchant's wife gossiping with her friends about a spinster — angry about something that doesn't have anything to do with them.
