𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐗

08| ERRORS OF FALLACY

"Ahyunie!"

He cried and cried some more, but she didn't wake up.

Seojin didn't know if that was the end of his story. It may just be the onset of a great adventure.
Life was like that. Nobody ever knew anything. Where one calls something bad; he called it good. But really, nobody ever knew.

He had to heal his wounded world. The chaos, despair, and senseless vandalism he saw today were a result of the estrangement that he felt from world, from each other and his domain.

It was one night that led to destructive catastrophe, with the little life left in his fist, Seojin stood at the door, shattered and bewildered.

It was already too much when he met the chafed Tobias back at his café when he was blamed for innumerable frauds when he found a panicking Hana chanting Chiwon's name... And now his wife, unconscious.

It wasn't something sort of dream or a nightmare. His subconscious mind always nullified the threats of being blamed, for he knew he was honest, too true to himself and much more bona fide to his loved ones. All he ever dreamt was of being lost in the sea of loneliness he was brought up in. He craved a family and losing it would be the biggest despair of his life.

He wanted to deny every bit of reality crawling over his spine in a crippled manner. Not only that, but he would love to deny it all. It was a mess everywhere, his life, his mind, his heart. Pulling the sheets to cover her shivering body, Seojin slowly walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

A void in his chest was beginning to fill with anger. Quiet, defeated anger that guaranteed him the right to his hurt, that believed no one could possibly understand that hurt.

At first, he thought of laying on the couch, to spend the night in the alluring darkness, but the warmth he craved amidst the flourishing night was nowhere to be found. So, he took his trembling body and plopped down next to his daughter.

The little girl scooted closer to the newly found warmth, and even in her deep sleep, she did what no one could: soothe his searing heart. When he broke beneath the burden of the years and went down with everything he owned, his thoughts drifted on the sea of smithereens for a while like small lost rafts. They did not drown; instead, they carried and sailed.

He closed his eyes and let his mind wander, with the little life in his arms, he let his heart bleed.
Night fell. Or had tumbled.

He remembered reading somewhere, someone asking why was it that night fell, instead of rising, like the dawn? Yet if he looked east, at sunset, he could see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon, like a black sun behind cloud cover. Like smoke from an unseen fire, a line of fire just below the horizon, brush fire or a burning city.

He had the answer today. Night fell because it was heavy, a thick curtain pulled up over the eyes.

Maybe the morning would be better, maybe the morning would bring all the happiness, maybe the morning would define all of this to be a horrendous nightmare, maybe.

The morning shall bring it all.

...

The morning had quietly slipped in through the small cracks in the window blinds. The sun peeking through seemed a bit shy, but it was still a bit unnerving.

In the quiet aftermath of a turbulent night, as the morning light timidly crept through the crooked shades of the window cracks, a sense of unease lingered in the room. The sun's rays, usually a herald of a new day, now felt unsettling, casting shadows that danced eerily on the walls.