The Scent and The Siren

‎♡‧₊˚zero ‎♡‧₊˚

✧༺♥༻∞

─── ⋅｡ﾟ☆: ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅:☆ﾟ ⋅ ───

𓆩♡𓆪 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𓆩♡𓆪

✧༺♥༻∞

I feel like the heroine of some devastatingly sad, most romantic, and big cathartic cry-worthy Hollywood flicks.

I'm talking about the kinds that are guaranteed to tug at heartstrings.

I can chalk it up to jet lag. Or the sadness of having said my final goodbye to my life in Paris after all these marvelous years.

But that's not it, and you would know why, Beast.

Thirteen years ago today, you revealed your love for me for the first time. The recollection of that day lingers in my thoughts, as vivid as a freshly formed dewdrop, almost as though it transpired just yesterday.

It was a brilliantly clear and refreshingly crisp morning of April 27th when, in the midst of our customary morning run's second segment, you laced your fingers with mine and whisked me away—far from the honking clangor of the city and into the hidden oasis of the Ravine on a horse-drawn carriage ride.

Your actions were a total enigma, but there was no mistaking that I'd never seen you so flustered and pumped up in tandem.

Amidst the towering trees that hid the city from view, with the scent of forsythia and the melodious murmur of mini waterfalls enveloping us, you went down on one knee with a classic Harry Winston ring in your hand.

I've refrained from speaking up because I've been apprehensive that if things don't work out between us or your feelings differ from mine, it could jeopardize our childhood friendship. But I've reached a point where I can no longer keep my feelings to myself. I've been going through sheer agony, every second, realizing you're oblivious to the fact that I'm hopelessly in love with you, Belle. You are my once-in-a-lifetime love. Regardless of how archaic you find it, you should know that in my mind, you're already mine, baby. Be my girlfriend.

I vividly remember the tumultuous beating of my heart as you confessed your long-concealed feelings. It was dreamy, helluva cliché, and perfect for the melodramatic EXTRA teen I used to be. The ring was EXTRA. The proposal was EXTRA. Everything was EXTRA. I loved every bit of it.

Your arrogant confidence in my acceptance was so pronounced that you didn't even give me a chance to answer before slipping the ring onto my left ring finger—a gorgeous deep bluish-green stone, held by double claw prongs, glimmering and glowing between bright icy white tapered baguettes and crowning a lustrous platinum shank.

I was rendered speechless and overwhelmed by a rush of emotions because, unbeknownst to you, I had been secretly in love with you for what seemed like an eternity. So, rather than attempting to find words, I instinctively leaned in and sealed our first kiss and my first kiss ever. You had cupped my face and took control of it fervently like those male heroes of Harlequin romance, spinning my world off its axis.

I have felt like a vagrant since we parted ways, Beast.

Every moment in this city serves as a poignant reminder of the times we shared, and while those memories are precious, they also cut deep, like sharpened blades, which is why I left, intending to come back only once I've fully recovered from my emotional injuries.