Litcht Lavendel: Prompt Book

🪻| Prompt 1: RESULTS

Despite the low amount of submission for the month of December, we'd still like to reward our winner of Prompt One!

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Blessings by: lostlovefairy

Fiza delicately cradled the Christmas ornament, a tiny masterpiece encapsulating a world of memories. The 2D ornament held a precious picture of her and Alan on one side, the warmth of their smiles frozen in time, while the other side whispered of a concert date with the preserved ticket stub. As she hung it on the tree, a bittersweet smile graced her lips, a tapestry of emotions woven into the festive air.

Christmas had become her adopted sanctuary, a haven of love and longing. Fiza being a Muslim hailing from Kerala, festive celebrations were more subdued, yet she had embraced the yuletide spirit with a fervor ignited by Alan.
Their love story resonated in the holiday symphony, accompanied by his mother's cherished Christmas carols that echoed through the corridors of her heart.

The years of medical college had intertwined their lives, and she became an integral part of Alan's festive traditions. Decorating their Christmas tree became a shared joy, and spending the holidays with his family felt like stepping into what should have been her own.
Christmas was no longer just a season; it was an intimate connection to Alan, a thread binding her to the heart of his family.

As she adorned the tree, Fiza's heart echoed with the ache of longing. She yearned to see Alan, to bask in the warmth of his presence, and to share the festive cheer with the woman she still lovingly called 'Amma (mother).' The ornament, a silent witness to their once beautiful love story, dangled on the tree like a shimmering emblem of the love that transcended time and distance.

December draped Fiza in a veil of melancholy, a challenging month she approached with guarded emotions. Broken - a word that whispered the essence of what she had become, a mere echo of the vibrant soul she once embodied. Music, once a haunting reminder of him, had transformed into a bridge connecting her to the past.

In the solitude of her space, she brewed a cup of hot chocolate, a comforting companion to the memories that lingered by her window. As she sipped, she welcomed the echoes of the past rather than shunning them.

Amidst the bittersweet symphony of recollections, Amma's voice reverberated. "Fiza, come sing for us," she urged, and Fiza's gaze met Alan's radiant smile. The guitar emerged, weaving a melody of "Deck the Halls" that resonated with the warmth of shared moments.

"Silent Night," Amma requested, and Fiza obliged, her voice filling the room with a haunting beauty. Alan's father, drawn by the melody, wiped his eyes as the song reached its poignant conclusion.

"We have a stocking for you too, mole (daughter)," Amma declared, disappearing into her room to retrieve Fiza's stocking. Stockings hung on the wall, each telling a story. Amma, Acha, Alan, and Fiza - names etched into the fabric of shared joys.

Fiza's mind lingered on the symbolic arrangement, a tableau of one happy family frozen in time.

Tears flowed uncontrollably, a torrent of grief for moments forever lost. Nothing could resurrect those happy times or bring Alan back into her arms-the family, a collective heartbeat through five years of medical college and two years of PG training.

Setting aside her cup of hot chocolate, she gasped for air, uttering a desperate call to Allah, a plea for a comfort that eluded her. Waves of physical pain coursed through her, a visceral reminder of her profound loss. Closing her eyes, she sought solace by journeying back in time.

In the quiet refuge of Alex's room, Alan's tender words painted an intimate portrait. "You are so beautiful, Fiz," he murmured, his fingers caressing her cheek in a soft dance of affection.
Though the night held secrecy, a shared haven of stolen moments, they abided by the rule of separate rooms imposed by Alan's parents, who remained blissfully unaware of their nocturnal rendezvous.

As Alan drew her into the warmth of his embrace, whispers of endearment filled the air.
"My angel," he breathed against her ear, his arms enveloping her in a cocoon of safety and love. Fiza, smiling in the soft glow of the room, found solace in the clandestine tenderness they shared, a stolen sanctuary where the outside world faded into insignificance.

"I'm so blessed to have you, Fiz," he confessed, his words a soft melody. Fiza, feeling safe and loved, teasingly remarked on his sudden gratitude. "So thankful suddenly?" His response was tender and earnest, a litany of endearments: "You are my angel," he kissed her cheek, "my soulmate," he kissed the other, leaving her breathless.

"I love you, Alan," Fiza whispered, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss. In the cocoon of that moment, he declared, "I love you too," burying his face at the crook of her neck.

Time may have claimed those days, but the echo of their love reverberated through the tears she shed for the family that once was, and the man she had lost.

Amidst the tears that now freely flowed, Fiza lifted her cup, finding solace in the warmth of her hot chocolate.

"Wake up, Fiz!" Alan's voice echoed, and a smile broke across Fiza's face as she stretched, responding to the Christmas cheer. Alan stood before her, a small, beautifully wrapped box in hand.

"I thought we had a no gifts rule," Fiza remarked, her excitement barely concealed as she anticipated the surprise.

"It's not expensive, but I made it!" Alan confessed, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Eagerly, Fiza accepted the gift, delicately unwrapping it to reveal the cherished Christmas ornament, a testament to their shared memories.

"It's beautiful!" she exclaimed, a genuine appreciation lighting up her face. In a reciprocal gesture, Fiza reached for her bag, presenting Alan with a small, carefully wrapped gift. As he unwrapped it, a framed picture of them emerged.

"There's a letter in the back," she confessed, a shy blush gracing her cheeks. "Read it whenever you feel low about us, okay?" The letter, a cascade of reasons why she loved him, was a heartfelt expression of their connection.

"I love your smile, the way you look at me, how you call me princess, your honesty, the way you anticipate what I want, how you respect me, how you kiss me, your ability to admit your mistakes, and most of all, how you love me," she whispered, the words forming an unspoken promise that echoed in the tender moments they shared.

This Christmas held no promise of gifts or carol-filled joy. As Fiza's phone rang with an unknown number, she took a deep breath to steady herself before answering.

"Mole," Alan's mother's voice echoed through the line, wishing her a Merry Christmas. Tears welled in Fiza's eyes at the sound, the void of their absence painfully evident.

"It's not Christmas without you," Alan's mother confessed, her voice breaking. Fiza,
overwhelmed, remained silent, the weight of the unspoken words hanging heavily between them.
"We miss you," she uttered, before Fiza, unable to bear it any longer, abruptly cut the call and released a heart-wrenching scream.

Drowning in her grief, Fiza reached out to her husband, Faisal. "Faisal, I'm hurting today," she confessed, wiping away her tears. The life she found herself in wasn't the one she had chosen, but Faisal, with his kindness and understanding, became her anchor.

"It's okay, Fiza," he reassured her. "I'll come home early today. We'll set up..." his voice broke, "..we'll set up a Christmas tree together, and we can celebrate it if you want to."

"That'll be nice, Faisal," she replied resignedly.
A poignant silence lingered, but just before he hung up, she found the strength to say,
"Faisal?"

"Yeah?" he answered.

"I'm blessed to have you."