𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺 {𝙘𝙝𝙤 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜/𝙤𝙘} ⚢

iii.

circa 2002.

"when school ends i'll bring you far, far away from here," he'd said. his voice was still sweet molasses to my ears; velvety and decadent with every syllable he spoke. i didn't know how that was possible. i still couldn't quite entertain such tender thoughts.

how could someone be so kind and compassionate and empathic at all times?

cedric diggory was all of those things and more. he was such a good man; one of very, very few in this world. i wondered if that was why my patronus was a swan. was it a potential ode to the dead man?

death.

i moved my hand up to cup the swell of my cheek. it was sore and weirdly balmy, not only from its current state, but from the previous ones it had encountered. there was no blood drawn, which of course most would go merry over (or be as happy as you could be in such a dire situation), but i wouldn't joy.

"no body, no crime! no blood, no stop!"

it was the omnipresent reality i had grown accustomed to. bao and i had married two summers ago in beijing. why there out of all the beautiful places in china? you tell me.

he was a muggle, and that was what i thought i needed. i'd been honest with him about my magic long, long before we'd eloped. he'd called me "我的女巫公主". it meant my witch princess. bao had a plethora of other names he'd whisper to me, for my ears only.

i was so happy it ached, but damn me for believing emotions as fleeting as happiness and contentment could last. 媽媽 (mama) had told me when i was younger better than that. she'd forever told me to marry a man who loved me more than i loved him. she'd stated it was the key to a good life.

"men are dogs," mama had preached. "got to keep them chasing after the milkman or they'll get bored and find something else to run after."

i'd listened, hung on her every word, drunk with compliance. i'd doned myself with the prettiest pearls found in diagon alley (around my neck and dangling from my golden lemon earlobes), shopped on rodeo drive when i'd reached america (young and in lust with the country were dreams supposedly always came true!), painted my lips scarlet, and made certain my skin looked dewy under the sun's blazing heat.

america really was a beauty before him. maybe it had even been a beauty with him, at least in the beginning. i couldn't know. the past had merged with the present.

the dog had caught up to the milkman (milkwoman), even if she'd been perfect. i'd done everything mama had said to do. i thought i'd been the best wife. i'd brought bao to his homeland, i'd stayed a bit out of reach at all times ("got to keep the mystery," mama said), i'd done all the cooking and cleaning.

and there i laid,

my body sprawled on the ground. i was begging to bleed. who the fuck begged to bleed? bao wasn't bao. he was but the shell of a man i once knew; a man full of hurt turned rage, and now i knew (with my luck too late, of course!), that when you let pain fester, the only thing that could truly ensue was...

chaos.