Someone people choose love. Others wish for that everlasting feeling.
As your life is decided for you; what to do, what to say, and how to be the perfect version of you. Eventually, everything falls.
Will you let rage defeat you or... do you find o...
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"Oh?" I observed her intently, my eyes fixated on her delicate hands as she meticulously played with her nails, revealing a hint of nervousness. A flicker of curiosity danced within me, urging her to share what was on her mind. "Do tell." - "It's, uh, not that important anyway," she replied, her voice tinged with a touch of hesitance. Her gaze darted restlessly from one side of the room to the other, as if searching for an escape from the weight of her words. I couldn't help but feel a surge of injustice, the unfairness of her ability to suggest both good and bad news and then casually dismiss them. It was as if I didn't deserve to know, as if the direness of my situation wasn't already overwhelming.
"What?" I cocked my head, a mix of confusion and concern evident in my eyes as I locked my gaze with hers. "You can't just say that and then expect me to let it go."
"Right, here," she abruptly interjected, her words laced with a sense of urgency. With a sudden motion, she shoved a plate of unappetizing food in front of my face, as if trying to divert the conversation. "Eat up, you should be expecting Defaz soon."
I mustered a weak expression of gratitude, though my mind remained preoccupied with the weight of her unshared revelations. The tasteless morsels on the plate served as a stark reflection of my current predicament. The greens, once vibrant and full of life, now appeared wilted and devoid of their natural hue. The rice, once soft and inviting, now bore a crunchy texture that grated against my senses. And the chicken, once succulent and flavorful, had been reduced to a dry and flavorless piece of meat. It was a stark reminder of the bitter reality I found myself in. "Thanks, I guess," I muttered under my breath, my tone a mixture of resignation and disappointment.
As she made her way toward the door, a sense of finality hung in the air. However, just before leaving, she paused and turned around, her gaze filled with a mix of concern and fleeting tenderness. "And, Ada?"
I met her gaze, the gravity of the moment settling upon me. "Yeah," I replied, my voice laced with a tinge of vulnerability.
"Stay strong."
Her words echoed in the silence, resonating deep within me. It was a plea, a silent urging for resilience in the face of the impending storm. "At least, for the rest of us," she muttered softly, her voice barely audible. With that, she closed the door, her retreating footsteps gradually fading away, swallowed by the vast emptiness that enveloped the space around me.
"At least, for the rest of us," I scoffed bitterly, my voice tinged with a mixture of defiance and resignation. The weight of the situation bore down on me, leaving me questioning how I had arrived at such a tumultuous crossroads. My eyes reluctantly returned to the plate of unappetizing food, each bite symbolizing the bitter taste of my own powerlessness. The room, once softly illuminated, now seemed suffocatingly dim, mirroring the darkness that had permeated my life.
