✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
[ 𝐒𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐋 1 ]
Because this is where love fades and hate resides and intensifies, broken hearts produce the most tragic stories.
Their treachery is told through their bleeding hearts: their unrequited love was never reciprocated. The...
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The insistent, blinding hammering of a migraine against my temples was the first thing to greet me. It wasn't just a headache; it was a physical drumbeat, punishing me for my recklessness. My eyelids, heavy as lead, fluttered open to the unfamiliar surroundings. It was an expensive place, no doubt—a plush, muted grey carpet, a king-sized bed with crisp white sheets, and a bedside table laden with a half-empty glass of water and a small vase of white lilies.
Where... where am I?
Panic clawed at my throat, cold and sharp. I scrambled out of bed, my head spinning violently. The room swam before my eyes, a dizzying, nauseating kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. Nausea roiled in my stomach, threatening to overwhelm me. I stumbled towards the attached bathroom, the cool marble floor providing a small, momentary anchor beneath my bare feet.
The sight in the mirror sent a jolt of ice-cold adrenaline through me, momentarily eclipsing the panic. My hair was a tangled, dark mess, my eyes bloodshot and rimmed with smudged eyeliner and fatigue, but what caught my attention, what held my gaze captive, were my lips.
My lips. They were swollen, slightly bruised, and they throbbed painfully, a residual ache that wasn't unpleasant, but rather, proof.
A wave of dizziness washed over me, and I clung desperately to the edge of the sink, dry heaving into the toilet bowl until my muscles cramped. Once the immediate nausea passed, the previous night's events surfaced in fragmented flashes, scattered but potent: the intoxicating scent of Vidyut's cologne, the deep resonance of his voice, the way his eyes had darkened with amusement and then, something much fiercer. The dizzying rush of his laughter, the feel of his hands cupping my face, and then, the devastating, life-altering impact of his lips on mine.
Oh God.
My first kiss.
Despite the jackhammer pounding in my head, a slow, giddy, almost manic smile spread across my face, stretching my throbbing lips further. It had been everything I had ever dreamed of and everything I had never dared to expect—magical, passionate, and utterly breathtaking.
