You are quite like a wilted flower,
neglected,
dried out,
and crumbled into pieces.
But, why did you still catch my attention with that beyond-belief beauty of yours?
All you need is a little love to bloom,
a little care to grow colorful,
and a litt...
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III: Wilted Flower
Fragments of Reality | Incomplete parts or pieces of our understanding of the world.
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Minho blinked, still processing the surreal events of the dream he just had. He glanced at the girl beside him, her features bathed in the gentle glow of night.
Was she a figment of his imagination, or had she truly materialized in his room?
The girl beside him stirred, rising slowly as if attuned to Minho's thoughts. Her gaze met his, a blend of curiosity and uncertainty shadowing her features, as if uncertain of her own presence in this unfamiliar setting.
"Minho," the girl whispered his name once more, her hands trembling as they found their place upon his beating heart.
Minho's throat tightened with disbelief as he swallowed hard.
"Who are you?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
The girl hesitated, her expression unreadable. "I'm Iris," she finally said, her voice soft but filled with a quiet certainty.
A heavy silence hung between them, punctuated only by the gentle patter of rain outside the window.
Minho struggled to make sense of the situation, his mind racing with a million questions.
"Where did you come from?" he ventured, his voice tinged with desperation.
"A parallel realm," she confessed.
Minho's breath caught in his throat, disbelief warring with a primal instinct to flee.
"A parallel realm?" His voice trembled with uncertainty, his mind grappling with the enormity of her revelation.
"What... What is a parallel realm?" The concept felt like a shard of shattered reality piercing his consciousness, yet as he searched Iris's eyes, he found no trace of deception, only an earnest vulnerability that begged him to believe.
