Sins of loving you

7

The lighting strikes snapping me back and when the curtains fluttered again, she was alone swaying her body and enjoying the rain. My throat was parched but every other part of me was sweating. My heart was throbbing painfully as if I was about to have a panic attack. 

What did I just see? Was the fear I had for Jungkook so strong that I was hallucinating his presence? 

Maybe it was because of the harsh wind, chills ran through my spine making me shiver at thought of the his dark eyes watching me.

The moment she noticed me she gestured for me to join. I immediately shook my hand conveying I didn't want but she didn't take no for an answer. With a mischievous giggle, she pulled me from the protection of the shade.

The raindrops felt refreshing against my skin, their coolness mingling with her laughter and the rain's melody, crafting a delightful symphony that eased my heart. I dismissed my own notion with a shake of my head, chiding myself softly to avoid tainting the moment due to someone who had long departed.

Her clothes clung to her frame, and her hair, once carefully arranged, was now a cascade of damp, dark curls. I watched her with a mixture of surprise and delight on my face. 

We spun and swayed, our movements a blend of choreography and spontaneity dancing to a melody only we could hear.  In that moment, nothing else mattered. Worries, obligations, and the outside world vanished, leaving only her laughter, our closeness.

As the rain began to ease, our dance gradually slowed. We stood there, still close, our foreheads touching, breathing in sync. The world was left washed clean by the rain, and my spirits felt renewed as if the downpour had washed away my troubles too.

Ara looked up at me, her eyes soft and full of something unspoken. I smiled down at her, brushing a wet strand of hair from her face.

"Thank you for this," she whispered.

My heart swelled. "Anytime."

Our serene moment was interrupted as I sneezed so loud that Ara almost jumped startled. And then another wave of laughter originated from her lips, as she hurriedly pulled me inside the room and put a towel over my head like a veil.

"Please, after you," she insisted, giving me a subtle, encouraging push towards the restroom. Before I could voice my objections, she hurried back out to the terrace. Despite the rain having reduced to a gentle drizzle, the wind retained its biting intensity. Worried about her well-being, I couldn't help but express my concern aloud.

"Dont stay out for long, you will catch a cold"

In response, she offered nothing more than a wave of her hand before pivoting gracefully, fully immersing herself in the embrace of the wind. Once again, my heart sank, and with reluctant steps, I made my way to the washroom, each footfall feeling like a heavy burden to bear.

I wished to understand her devotion towards her deceased lover but no matter how much I tried I couldn't. 

His love for her, vast and profound, painted one facet of his character. However, the harsh reality that he met his end at the hands of the police, following a violent rampage that began at a local church and ended at a local bar near our college, left me grappling with disbelief. How she managed to retain a hint of fondness in her eyes when recounting the memory of such a reprehensible individual was a mystery I found myself unable to unravel.

Eleven people died that day.

Eleven young people with bright futures lost their lives. It was a headline in every news channel for weeks and following that incident, I never saw her again until today.

How could she love such a person?

I had convinced myself that it was fear. Who would dare to leave a guy capable of such a terror? 

But I knew now I was just fooling myself. 

Maybe our moral compass doesn't apply to the person we love. Maybe we cannot help those we love.

Exhaling a sigh fraught with distress, I stood under the soothing cascade of warm water, allowing it to cleanse away the tensions of the day.  My lips had settled into a pout, mirroring the discontent swirling within me. my thoughts were filled with the guy who, despite his demise, continued to cast a looming shadow over my love life.

How was I even supposed to complete with a dead guy?

A surge of emotion, an irresistible urge to journey to his tomb and unearth him, merely to deliver a resounding punch for his despicable actions, coursed through me.

Abruptly, the water's temperature shifted, turning scalding hot and searing my skin.

"Damn it," I muttered, moving quickly to turn off the shower.

Stepping out of the shower, I made a mental note to address the shower malfunction with the management. As I reached for the towel to dry myself, I suddenly realized my oversight—I had forgotten to bring spare clothes to change into.

With the towel casually tossed over my shoulder, I found myself with no alternative but one.

"Ara," I called out, my voice tinged with embarrassment.

"Could you retrieve some spare clothes from my bag and hand them to me through the door?" I asked, my voice carrying a note of plea. Although I received no verbal response, the distinct sound of her footsteps drawing nearer to the bathroom was unmistakable.

Cracking open the door just sufficiently for her to pass the clothes, her hand moved swiftly, and at that moment, I caught a fleeting glimpse of a tattoo on her finger. Once changed into clean clothes, I exited the room, discovering her standing on the terrace, her gaze fixed on something unseen.

"Ara?" I called out.

"Oh, you're finished," she responded, skipping back into the room. She rummaged through her duffel bag, retrieving a dress and a towel. As she began to walk past me, I instinctively reached out and held her hand, bringing her to an abrupt halt.

She seemed startled, yet remained silent. Carefully, I lifted her hand, turning it over as I searched for any traces, any ink, but found nothing. Her hands were as pristine as an untouched canvas, devoid of any marks.

****

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