[Sequel of Warm Love, hence can't be read as a standalone.]
In the first phase, Reyansh concealed a web of mysteries, but as they stand face to face once more, it's Kiraz who holds the tantalizing secrets waiting to be unveiled. These hidden truths...
Before you read, I would like to warn you that this chapter contains content which might put you in an unpleasant situation.
~900votes for next update~
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
And who says living is easy? Heavy baggage on my shoulder, I am made of pieces of my past. Troubled by my days, and here I stare at loving death.
I am fascinated by death. I am not scared of it because it holds power. You shouldn't be wary of things that hold supremacy over reality. A reality mortal humans try to ignore and think they are imperishable. I abide by the play of death; what has come must go, and the play of tragedy I shower on the same scrawny humans makes me understand what death truly is.
And I have always used it as a tool for manipulation to get my way out, to get things done. Keeping power by my side has made me rule my empire and the world, which reeks of sin.
My fingers gripped the steering wheel, the strength turning my knuckles white.
And she fucking played with the same death.
Fucked with me. Wasn't fucking with my emotions enough for her that she is out to flip my world in the wrong way? And suddenly I find myself losing whatever I have garnered over my thirty-four years of life. The only realization screaming and drumming in my ears: I am mortal, and I can't fight death no matter how much leverage I pull from my world. When it comes to taking her away from me, I will be just someone who mixes into the soil and air. His every trance buried and wiped.
The outstretched path of the forest opens with a small road enough to allow my car to roar down the silence of the approaching dawn. But darkness envelops every inch of the wood. The sight calms my demons a little. The purpose I drove here for. Trees loomed like silent custodians of the dwelling energy happening in the middle of the forest. The naturally occurring energy.
The intertwining branches coming together to form a canopy hiding the little light the dark sky could offer. I had come here when my sweet mother rejected me. A place I found by accident now seems to welcome me with open arms, lulling me into the façade of running.
The familiar spot flashes through the headlights of my car.
I park the car on the crest of the hill, the tires crunching softly against the gravel. Snatching my blazer from the back seat, I pull it over my naked chest. Stepping out, I move towards the edge where the ground dips sharply into the darkness below. The forest spreads out beneath me in an endless sea of shadows. The sky is still dark, with shattered specks of light from a new sunrise making the canvas of the earth look inky. As though a writer has a lot to say mutely and a painter has a lot to express his emotions. And they have simmered the canvas-like sky because can a word express the grief beholden?
I walk back towards the tree, the last time I took shelter under it. Small splatters of rain fall, brushing the lonely earth. I sit down on the hard, crusty ground, and a breeze blows past me, sending goosebumps down my neck.
