Control | Moon Knight

22

As a sliver on sunshine rays in from the window, cascading down onto her face, Cleo wakes up with a groan. She stretches her limbs and tightens her muscles, feeling just the slightest bit refreshed from her somewhat peaceful slumber. She sits up and opens her eyes to be met with an empty room. Her heart sinks down into her chest, her skin crawling as she sits alone in the room. Her legs swing off of the bed, her feet making contact with the cool floor. She chews on the skin of her inner cheeks as her mind tries to rationalize the empty room without jumping to conclusions.

That's a burden she's always had to bare. She wants to be rational and reasonable, but her emotions and overworked mind tend to get the best of her.

The door opens and her head snaps in that direction to see Marc walking through with full hands, and she lets out a deep breath. He walks up to her, but doesn't hand her anything. Instead, he sets down a cup of coffee and a bagel down on the bedside table to her left side. He pulls back, but her eyes follow him as her mouths forms a temporary smile.

" Your aunt talks a lot," Marc states, " Coffee might be cold."

" That's fine... thank you," She says as she takes the coffee in her hands, " But, she's not my aunt."

With that, Marc turns around to face her with brows furrowed.

" I thought you called her auntie?"

" It's more like a term of endearment. Everybody's an auntie or an uncle."

With her works, Marc is reminded that he does in fact know that. His time with Layla taught him a lot about Egyptian culture, but that fact must have just slipped his mind.

As Cleo finishes her coffee, still half naked from the events of the previous night, Marc stands with his arms crossed, face void of any expressions as he watches her. He rethinks his choice to bring her breakfast. Maybe that's a sign of weakness. Maybe it's a sign that he's getting too close. He can't do it all over. He can't do it again. He can't get close to someone. All that will happen is he'll leave. He'll lose feelings and leave.

Just like he did with Layla.

He couldn't be vulnerable with her. He couldn't let his guard down, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn't get him to trust her. And because of it, she didn't trust him. They summed up their marriage as a mistake. Something that should have never happened, and so they both willingly signed the divorce papers. But Marc can't do it again. He can't put Cleo through it. He just can't.

Once breakfast is finished, Cleo takes a long, cold shower to cool her aching skin, and puts on some clothes. She combs through her damp hair and accidentally makes eye contact with Marc. She tears her eyes away and continues to comb through her locks, the hot air quickly drying it. She puts on her shoes and grabs a pair of sunglasses as she heads for the door.

" Be right back," Cleo says, then closes the door behind her.

Cleo walks down the stoned steps of the beautiful Egyptian hotel and enters the lobby. She sees her auntie sat behind a desk as she reads a magazine, but then she turns her head and stops dead in her tracks. Her eyes go wide, bulging out of her head as the other woman in the lobby smiles at her, standing with a veil that she pushes down to reveal her hair.

" Marhaban Cleopatra (Hello, Cleopatra)"

" la tunadini bidhalik (Don't call me that)"

Cleo looks over to the auntie sitting behind the desk, still reading her magazine, then turns her head back to the woman.

" What are you doing here?" Cleo questions.

" Do I need a reason to visit my daughter?" Akila asks as she takes slow and paced out steps, " You've grown."