"I can be the dark, just for you to love your brightness." Reyansh Rathore.
*.✧ ___________✧*。
Guilt and remorse can become your constant companions, clinging to your soul until you decide to release them. Yet, will your consc...
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Our love was warm, in admit of daze, it burnt us.
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Kiraz is like a crumpled paper, bearing its creases. Every inch holds its scars, igniting a spark in my eyes. The ups and downs course through her veins, connecting with me and striking me with delightful agony. The pain is immense, but I still muster the strength to confront it, feeling my heart beating.
It stung all those months when I confessed my love to her, yet I never received it in return. No one ever spoke those words to me with genuine sincerity. I was deprived of it, and hearing it back was as rare as spotting a shooting star.
I gaze at the lifeless man, none other than Don Clare, his body drenched in blood, much like my own crimson hands. I clench my fist, trying to stop the tremors. It always happens when my skin comes into contact with someone else's blood, but I've come to terms with it. If I inflict pain on someone, I must face the consequences. The thing was that, I harbored the art of acting and masking myself, unknow to everyone.
Leaving the room, I catch a familiar whiff of scent in the air - Kiraz's perfume. My tense muscles momentarily relax as I try to inhale more, but the scent vanishes. I smile, for I have fallen hopelessly in love with her, to the point where I even imagine her fragrance.
I move to my office, washing my hand, and face. I drag the satin white shirt, which has drawn itself in a certain pattern with crimson blood, out of my body. A new tattoo has etched itself on my hand, depicting the phases of the moon, I button the sleeves of my new shirt hiding it.
I had it done two days ago, planning to surprise her with it. I can imagine her shocked eyes, her parted lips turning into a smile, a tear adding a special touch to the moment. She'll cry because no one has ever done this for her, and I'll smile because she'll give me the most precious return gift, making me feel less like a villain.
I turn from the wall-to-ceiling window to sit in a chair, my eyes fixated on the clock. It's 1 pm, and I still have seven hours until I can see her. Tomorrow is the D-Day, the day I'll reclaim my throne. I know I will. Six months of hard work can't go to waste. After that, I'll focus solely on us. I'll gradually reveal my truth to her.
