Futility/Grey Caskets
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- Parts 3
Complete Wed, Apr 8, 2015<5 mins
A three-part ode to a darker time in my life, a man who broke my will and a bond I've had to sever to get it back.
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#19
mournful
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𝗦𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 "𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐞? Why not destroy me? Why not take revenge on me?" Her voice broke, tears streaming down as the weight of truth crushed her. She looked at him through eyes that no longer knew how to see-eyes that had once seen love, loyalty, family. And now? Lies. Just lies. All of it. But he didn't flinch. He didn't look away. Instead, he stepped forward with the calm of someone walking into fire, knowing it would burn but going anyway. "For what should I take revenge on you?" he asked softly, his voice steady as if trying to cradle her with it. "For a sin committed by a dead man, before you were even born?" She blinked, stunned by the mercy in his words. ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ She was never meant to be his bride. He was never meant to be her savior. On the day of her political marriage to Alaric Ruso-a man she had every reason to hate-three Stalteri relatives were found dead. That night, an even bigger body dropped. What she didn't expect was Alaric defending her to a room full of wolves, claiming her as his wife, yet warning her: "No love. No emotion. No betrayal." But Daphne? She was made to break things. Their marriage was born from ruin, sharpened by rage, and bound by secrets. And with every broken rule, the cracks beneath their fragile alliance deepened, revealing secrets far deadlier than betrayal. A past soaked in blood. A present drowning in conspiracies. And a future where neither may survive-unless they burn everything to the ground first. But when someone tries to take her life, again and again, Alaric nearly dies to save her-everything shifts. Because Daphne is not just a pawn. And Alaric is not just a man of rules. There are monsters in their pasts, and Daphne is the deadliest of them all. What happens when the girl meant to be broken becomes the blade itself? And the man who vowed not to love, begins to bleed for her?.
I wear a mask so well that even I almost believe it. Almost. Then I met him. His eyes were hollow, his smile a lie-just like mine. In him, I saw my own reflection, the same quiet suffering hidden beneath perfect façades. For the first time, I wasn't alone. But happiness is always fleeting. One moment, he was there. The next, he was gone. A fall from a rooftop. A life stolen too soon. Now, the world feels unreal. Shadows shift. Whispers grow louder. And in the corner of my vision, I still see him. If he's gone... why does it feel like he never left?
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