The Art Of Loving Kindness : A journey of forgiveness, compassion & love

🔙Past Tense 🔜

Charis memories :

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I often find myself drifting back to those vibrant afternoons spent in the heart of Cape Town, the sun spilling golden light over our conversations while the scent of freshly brewed herbal tea surrounded us. Oh, the tea! Our recent obsession, a gentle revelation in an otherwise chaotic world. I'd introduce Mizo to the warmth of chamomile, the zing of ginger, and the delicate sweetness of hibiscus, each cup sipping away the layers of life left unacknowledged between us. I can still picture him, lounging comfortably in that bistro by the waterfront, where the ocean's waves would hum a soothing melody in the background. Mizo would lean back, his expression a slate of stoic nonchalance, wearing that trademark prideful air, yet his monotone voice would twist my insides into joyful knots. "Tea," he'd declare, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon, "is the elixir of the gods." What a peculiar guy! So wrapped up in his mysterious swagger yet completely devoid of emotion. It thrilled me, I must confess. What was it about a man of such pride and no expression that drew me in like a moth to flame? Beneath that inscrutable demeanor, it felt as though a world of secrets lay hidden away, carefully locked behind the steel door of his monochromatic smile. How could a mystery man like Mizo be so fascinating yet frustrating all at once? As we sat across from each other, I became acutely aware of the laughter that filled the air—the playful banter over late-night seafood escapades, a culinary rollercoaster that had turned into our little tradition. The briny taste of fresh calamari paired with spiced seafood curry would always evoke a laughter reminiscent of summer nights. "Seafood is like intimacy," he'd tease, his voice unchanged, "it takes time and care to truly appreciate." I'd chuckle, wondering if he was hinting at our own closeness or simply talking about oysters. "What about the messiness?" I'd retort with a grin. "Don't you find that charming?"
Yet, even amidst that laughter, a question loomed.

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"Have you ever tasted a rooibos chai with a hint of vanilla? It's a revelation," I had exclaimed one afternoon, irony bubbling beneath my words. Mizo, with his striking presence and that almost royal air about him, had merely raised an eyebrow, his expression utterly devoid of animation. Just a hint of a smirk lurking beneath the facade. It was a performance, I realized. His proud stature and monotonous voice could hold an audience captive, but deep down, I was never quite sure if he was entertained or merely toying with the idea of amusement.

"Tea's for the timid," he declared once, though I could hear the faintest tremor in his tone, as if he were just testing the waters of my beliefs. "Real men drink coffee." I knew his bravado masked his curiosity, as we sipped together and shared plate after plate of exquisite seafood at new restaurants I had introduced him to. Ah, the irony! Mizo, this majestic figure wrapped in layers of composure and concealed emotions, exploring the delicate flavors of our city's hidden gems.

I can almost laugh now, as I recollect that first outing to the quaint little seafood joint by the beach. He had leaned back in his chair, surveying the scene like a king surveying his kingdom, nonchalantly drumming his fingers against the table. "Do you see this view?" he mused, his voice dripping with a strange solemnity. "Only the finest fish deserve this backdrop."

But beneath the bravado and those grand gestures, there lay an enigma—a wall so meticulously built around him that I often found myself pondering, how much strength is needed to carry such a heavy burden? Why do we create these facades, these intricate masks, convinced that our struggles somehow define us? For every little laugh we shared, I felt like I was speaking to a shadow, wondering how close I could slip beneath the surface of his silence.

What I found was a duality I rarely understood. He could be, with no discernible expression, simultaneously boastful and indifferent, a complex figure walking in step with my simpler existence. The truth was, the inflections of his words belied the depth of his spirit, and that left me teetering on the edge of confusion and affection.

I wanted so desperately to shine a light on those shadows, to understand him fully. If only I could have drawn closer, peeled back the layers he held so tightly. But how? How do you help someone carry their burdens when their very identity is wrapped in the agony of keeping them hidden?

With a soft sigh, I resolved to find the key. Little did I know then that the truths hidden away in the corners of his heart would soon unravel before me in a way I never could have anticipated. After all, every relationship is a journey, and ours was just beginning to reveal its true path. Would you believe it if I told you that behind that pride and lofty rhetoric lay a reality that would forever alter our course? The laughter we shared once upon a time now echoes through my heart—a gentle reminder of the complexities of love and the mysteries steeped in murky teacups.

And thus, this is where my story continues, suspended somewhere between tea leaves and the crashing waves. What did those quiet moments foreshadow? Was there brewing trouble beneath the surface? For now, I'll hold onto this memory—a fleeting day far removed from the closing chapters of our tale—as I prepare to reveal the labyrinthine truths that eventually unraveled our beautiful chaos.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡