Passion's Pitfalls

Chapter 13

Aurelia stuffed her clothes into her suitcase, her hands were trembling and her eyes were filled with tears. The darkness outside the window seemed to echo the darkness in her heart. She felt like a prisoner, trapped by her circumstances, The weight of her sadness and despair was crushing her, She sank to the floor, sobbing, she knew she had to leave at that moment, but the hour was too late, too dark, and too frightening.

There is just no way she would show up at her barren apartment by this hour, she doesn't even have a car and technically, no Uber would be available so apparently, she has to wait till the next morning.

She doesn't have a choice.

Her heart continued ache as wished Tristan's knock would be placed on the door but she knew it was just a fantasy or her being delusional. She knew that he would never come to her, not after everything that had happened. She curled up on the bed, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, trying to find some comfort in the warmth of her own embrace. But it was not enough -it was too empty. She closed her eyes, willing herself to fall asleep and hoping to escape the pain for a little while.

~•~

Tristan was still in his studio, surrounded by his paintings, and sculptures. But they felt cold and distant, like they belonged to someone else. He felt like he was an outsider, like he didn't belong anywhere. He had lost -Aurelia, and his sense of identity. He was adrift, with no anchor to hold him in place. The studio that had once been his sanctuary now felt like a prison, a place where he was trapped with his thoughts and his pain.

He is gaze was suddenly transfixed on yellow photograph which was caged in his fist. His mind was filled with regret. He couldn't stop thinking about the moment he had picked up the crumbled yellow photo, on the floor, between two of his painting buckets, the moment that had changed everything. He should have put it down, he shouldn't have looked at the content, he should have walked away. But he had been drawn to it, like a moth to a flame.

And now, he was burning.

He traced the features of the woman in the photo, the resemblance to Aurelia was undeniable -how could he have missed that? He felt sick to his stomach, a knot forming in his throat. He could feel the taste of the alcohol and bile burn his throat, and he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. He had drank too much, too fast, in an attempt to numb the pain. But the alcohol had only made things worse, amplifying his emotions and leaving him feeling raw and exposed. He wiped his mouth, his body, still in a shiver phase.

It was a relief, to not have to legs buckled, and he crumpled to the floor. His head hit the hardwood with a thud, and everything went black. He was unconscious, and the world around him starts to fade away. He was lost in a dark abyss, his mind reeling with the events of the day. He felt like he was floating, untethered and weightless to think or feel anything. But then, he started to hear a voice, calling out to him from the darkness.