↳ 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗹: 𝘃𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀

𝘿𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙡𝙖 𝘿𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙪 - 𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘮𝘦

⍜

[ any reader ]

A familiar weight settling on the other half of the bed begins to lure you from your slumber, head nestling against the pillows when fingers grace your cheek. They're soft, gentle. One of your hands catches them, kisses being pressed to each fingertip.

The gentle chuckle that follows is what pries your eyes open. Sunlight pours into the bedroom through the thin curtains. It glows like a halo above her fiery hair; she's an angel and no one could convince you otherwise. Her lips curl into a fond smile. Your favourite sight.

"It's time to get up." She announces in a silvery tone. Daniela leans closer to kiss your forehead, your eyes fluttering from her warmth.

When they reopen the room is cold, dim, the sun hiding behind slate grey clouds. Her side of the bed remains empty. Untouched, abandoned. You sit up and let the covers drop into your lap, rubbing your hands over your miserable face.

It's the same every morning. Your mind conjures her pretty face and loving tone, it brings her back to you until you truly wake to the grim reality. It's the purest form of torture.

—

Hands stuffed in your coat pockets and hood pulled over your head, you wander through narrow alleyways weaving into the village. Few residents show their faces these days. Most leave for work and come straight back to their homes, to their families and loved ones. It's a bitter feeling.

"The end is near!" A man hollers for all to hear. "Mother Miranda is no god to us. We have believed in her for so long and no good has come of it! Our children are starving. We are being worked to the bone. People are sick. Out with Miranda!"

In return for coins you're handed the bag of groceries. Neither you nor the woman behind the stall make eye contact as you take it and turn away, walking along the same old muddy path. Murky puddles splash beneath your boots. Mud squelches and footprints are left in your wake.

"Miranda is killing our loved ones!"

You stop dead in your tracks. Those words hit you in the chest like a bullet, tearing into you and leaving behind a hole, never to be filled. It's the truth. You reluctantly accepted what happened, yet hearing it aloud still births a pang in your heart.

The man tilts his head to peer down at you from upon the wooden box. Hands wrapped in fingerless gloves, holes dotted through the navy fabric, stretch out towards you.

"Have you lost a loved one?" He questions in a warmer tone. Wrinkles stretch around his silver brows, matching locks of hair sticking out from under his frayed hat.

"I lost everything." You answer sadly, truthfully. You glance at the handful of glum people making their way through the village. "You won't gain their support like this. They won't listen."

"You got any better ideas?"

Something flickers within your eyes. It rears its head through the melancholy glaze, a tinge of fire ripping through smoke. You walk away silently.

—

While the sun sets outside the window, you're seated at the table with the empty chair opposite. A framed photo of your love taken from a happier time accompanies you. Your plate is only empty because of your promise to Daniela; a promise to take care of yourself. For her.