Truly Yours (TomxLilith)

21

Third POV:

Lilith shifted in her seat, feeling restless as the train rattled along the tracks. She decided she needed to stretch her legs and get some fresh air, even if it was just in the narrow corridor of the train.

Stepping out, she wandered down the hallway until she discovered a small nook filled with shelves of books, an oasis for bored travelers. She began to browse the titles, her fingers trailing over the spines, searching for something to distract her.

One book caught her eye. Its cover was unlike any she had seen before, adorned with unusual symbols that intrigued her. She pulled it off the shelf and turned it over in her hands, contemplating whether it would offer the distraction she craved.

With the book tucked under her arm, she made her way back to the compartment. She looked at Tom who was sleeping, he had a softer look on his face when he slept. Then she looked at the book. It didn't have a title but she could see it was a story about two lovers. She began reading.

"In a small, unremarkable town, two people built their lives together without fanfare. They worked at mundane jobs, exchanging tired smiles at the end of long days, finding solace in the routine of cooking dinner and sharing the few moments they had. Their conversations were often punctuated by comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts, but a warmth hung between them—a familiarity that spoke of deeper feelings without needing to be expressed.

On weekends, they would visit the local market, picking up odd items and sharing soft laughter over their meager purchases. They never sought grand adventures or sought to escape their lives; their happiness was found in the quiet moments, like folding laundry or sitting side by side on the couch, lost in different books but completely at ease.

They didn't desire riches or recognition; their dreams were modest, rooted in the simple joys of life. They often envisioned a future where they would grow old together. A future that would never come true.

One day, everything changed. It started like any other morning, sunlight spilling through their kitchen window as they prepared breakfast, the aroma of coffee mingling with the scent of warm bread. He noticed a slight change in her, a fragility in her movements that he attributed to the long hours she'd been working.

Without warning, she fell ill, a sudden sickness that gripped her with ferocity. Panic settled in as he rushed her to the local doctor, but the news was a crushing weight that left him gasping for breath. Complications had arisen, and the doctor's voice became a blur, drowning in the roaring silence of his heart. She was pregnant, and the life they dreamed of was now hanging by a thread.

Days turned into an agonizing blur of hospital rooms and sterile smells, each moment filled with an unbearable sense of dread. He held her hand, whispering promises of hope, but the light in her eyes began to dim. The forces that tore her away felt both cruel and indifferent, as if the universe conspired to snatch away the one thing that brought him joy.

The day she slipped away, he felt as though the world had cracked open beneath him. She took his heart with her, leaving behind an empty shell of a man. In that moment, he didn't just lose her; he lost their future together, the child they never got to meet, and every promise they had made to one another. He was left with nothing but a haunting silence.

He began to curse the gods, the universe, whatever was out there, that had orchestrated this tragedy. What kind of cosmic force could allow such a beautiful life to be ripped apart so ruthlessly? The stars that once filled him with wonder now mocked him with their distant twinkling, a constant reminder of the vastness of the universe that seemed indifferent to his suffering.

To him, the gods were nothing but callous spectators, watching as he suffered through the unfathomable pain of loss, their silence deafening.

Unable to bear the weight of his grief any longer, he turned to dark magic as a means to escape the suffocating pain. It beckoned him with promises of numbness, drawing him into its shadowy embrace. He immersed himself in ancient texts and forbidden rituals, each incantation offering a temporary reprieve from his sorrow.

As he chanted the words, the magic surged through him, wrapping his heart in a cold numbness that pushed away the aching memories of her. He felt a hollow relief, but with each spell cast, he sensed a piece of himself slipping away. He traded his humanity for numbness.

From that day forward, dark magic followed him like a shadow, a shadow that would be with him life after life. He became a vessel of despair, haunted by the love he had lost, forever caught between the yearning for what once was and the chilling embrace of the darkness he now called home."

As Lilith flipped through the pages, she became engrossed in the story unfolding before her. The narrative depicted two individuals—strangers, yet achingly familiar—living a life filled with moments of quiet joy. The way the characters loved each other, the small gestures of affection, and the dreams they wove together felt strangely intimate, as if she were peering into a window of another time.

She read about their simple days spent wandering through sunlit fields, their conversations filled with hope and the shared understanding that seemed to bind them together. But then the tone shifted. The warmth was replaced by a chilling inevitability as tragedy struck, tearing them apart. As she read about the woman's untimely death, a heaviness settled in her chest, tightening like a vise.

Lilith's heart raced, and she felt a knot form in her stomach. It was as if she were living their loss all over again, the pain cutting deeper than she anticipated. A sense of dread washed over her as she turned the pages, desperate to understand the fate of these two people who felt so deeply intertwined with her own heart. The words blurred as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

She slammed the book shut, not wanting to read any more of this haunting tale. The noise jolted Tom awake, his eyes snapping open as he blinked against the dim light.

"What?" he muttered, irritation creeping into his voice as he shifted in his seat, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Nothing," she shot back, a mix of anger and embarrassment rising in her chest. She quickly shoved the book into her bag, not wanting him to pry into her feelings.

Tom eyed her skeptically. "You looked like you were enjoying that," he teased, clearly amused by her sudden agitation.

"It's just a stupid story," she snapped, refusing to meet his gaze. The last thing she wanted was to give him the satisfaction of knowing how the book had affected her.

"Sure it is," he replied, the sarcasm dripping from his tone. "But it must be quite a tale if it has you so worked up."

Lilith felt her cheeks flush with anger and embarrassment. "You wouldn't understand," she retorted, her voice low.

"Probably not," he said, leaning back in his seat, his expression shifting to one of casual indifference. "But then again, I don't really care to."

She rolled her eyes. "Tell me something new."