Dumped and determined
I'm on a mission to prove to my worried parents that I'm just peachy!
Sure, it hurts like a bitch, but I've got a game plan: smile through the pain, flirt with university hotties, and maybe sip a little too much (thanks to my...
And so Azrael returned after a year, the young woman saw him once he appeared next to the oak tree. The young woman looked thinner, and the rim of her eyes was flushed.
Azrael halted, observing the humble abode in front of him. He saw several figures lingering around the house: the mother of the young woman, the beautiful soul who had captivated him years ago, stood beside her husband, who was wailing as he looked at something in their cot.
In an instant, the young woman stood before him.
"Can you help us?" she pleaded, her eyes wide with desperation.
Azrael took a step back, shocked by her proximity.
"Mother... she is... not feeling well," the young woman whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks.
"She is dying," Azrael said, his voice steady and matter-of-fact.
The young woman's eyes widened in horror. In that moment, Azrael could see the pain radiating from her soul, as if she were pleading for him to take back his words.
"Go to your mother; be with her. She is waiting for you to bid her farewell."
As if jolted awake, the young woman ran back inside, her heart racing.
Time passed, and Azrael watched from a distance, a subordinate angel appearing at his side. He turned his gaze toward the house, where he saw the family's grief unfolding.
"Mother, please, open your eyes..." the youngest son begged, squeezing his mother's palm, while the rest of the family wept around her. The father leaned in, kissing his wife's lips and whispering, "I have loved you ever since the day I laid eyes on you; even death can't stop me from loving you."
The young woman, her eyes weary from tears, sat beside her mother, holding her waist. "I love you, Mother. Thank you for all the wisdom you have given me."
One by one, they bid their farewells to her. Azrael felt an unfamiliar ache in his heart. Why were they sad? Shouldn't they feel relief that the woman could finally escape her suffering?
He turned away from the scene as his subordinates gently took the soul, lingering in the area as he observed the family navigate their grief.
Days turned into weeks, and Azrael stayed hidden, making sure the young woman, Talisa, could not see him. He marveled at how the family coped without their matriarch. One afternoon, while observing the yard, he was surprised when Talisa spoke into the emptiness.
"My name is Talisa," she said, tending to their garden. "May I know your name?"
"I was certain you should not see me," he replied, stepping closer.
"Yes, you are right; I can't see you, but I can feel you."
"Then how do you know who I am?" he asked, intrigued.
Talisa looked up, her eyes meeting his. "I can see you, probably because you have this glowing aura around you, and you smell like a calming forest."
"This should not be happening..." Azrael murmured, captivated.
"You are stunning," he whispered, forgetting himself.
"Well, thank you," she smiled, and he frowned, torn between his duties and this blossoming connection.
"Why do I feel compelled to let her know my name?" he thought, battling his instincts.
"I am Azrael," he finally said.
"Azrael... I've heard that name before. Perhaps from my parents," she mused, lost in thought.
Thus began a series of conversations that drew Azrael closer to Talisa. He found himself lingering longer, captivated by her resilience. Most afternoons, she sat beneath the oak tree, waiting for him.
But one fateful day, she was missing from her usual spot. An unsettling feeling gripped him as he sensed dark figures surrounding the house. He rushed toward the commotion, shouting, "Talisa?"
Silence answered him. Panic surged as he scoured the vicinity until he spotted a flicker of light emanating from the barn.
The door burst open as he entered, revealing Talisa unconscious, a man looming over her.
"Get off her!" Azrael commanded, his voice echoing through the barn.
The man turned, anger twisting his features.
"Who are you?"
"Get away from her!" Azrael shouted again, his power surging.
The man convulsed suddenly, a dark presence overtaking him. "You should not meddle with this, Angel of Death. She is destined to succumb to your grace through this way," he hissed, eyes glowing red.
"Not on my watch," Azrael growled.
"I am doing my task; I do not need to follow your commands," the man retorted.
"I command you, mortifer, to leave this realm at once! No death shall be placed upon this maiden's soul," Azrael proclaimed.
The mortifer bowed his head in submission, but the confrontation was far from over. "How can I fulfill my duty to deliver her soul? It is her time," the dark figure replied.
"I will handle it, and I will be the one to deliver her soul to her resting place," Azrael asserted.
With a reluctant bow, the mortifer obeyed, collapsing to the ground beside Talisa.
Azrael approached her, removing his own clothing to cover her fragile form. He lifted her gently, intending to carry her to safety when suddenly the barn door burst open.
Talisa's father stood there, eyes wide with panic.
"What have you done with my daughter?"
"This man," Azrael gestured to the fallen figure, "attempted to harm her. I must take her home."
The old man hesitated, uncertainty written on his face.
"I am your daughter's suitor; I will not harm her," Azrael insisted, locking eyes with the distraught father.
Talisa's father, torn between fear and concern, agreed. "Find help to capture this man," he said, his voice wavering.
Azrael nodded, binding the mortifer to the floor, ensuring he would not rise again.
He carefully settled Talisa on her bed, assessing the damage. Her lip was swollen, her skin bruised and battered. A deep sense of urgency gripped him.
Returning with water and cloth, Azrael cleaned her wounds as her father entered, frantic. "Talisa, please wake up. I cannot bear losing you as I lost your mother," he wept, cradling her hand.
"She is just unconscious. Once her body heals, she will awaken," Azrael reassured him.
The old man's gratitude poured forth, and Azrael warned, "Do not leave her alone, especially if you must be away for a time."
That night, Azrael decided to stay for the first time, convincing himself it was merely to guard against further threats. But deep within, a different truth began to emerge—he was drawn to Talisa in ways he could not yet comprehend.
As he stood vigil by her side, he felt the weight of both duty and desire intertwine, shaping a bond that neither could have foreseen.
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