Beyond The Gaze: A Love Unseen

Chapter 40

Past - 22

Ares Simon's POV:

A Day Ago...

The rain poured down heavily, drenching me as the cold water droplets slipped from my hair down to my cheeks, dropping and absorbing into the ground beneath my feet.

I had been sitting here blankly in the open ground near our school campus since leaving the school courtyard. It had been several hours and it was already dark now, but I still hadn't returned home. I knew I had to go home, yet I couldn't move. My thoughts were creating a hurricane inside my head.

Like... Love...

These words had no existence in my life until a few months ago when I received the first letter on Father's Day. I intended to throw the letter, but when I felt something inside it, I opened it out of curiosity. There it was—a beautiful delicate flower; a white lily. I couldn't resist and opened the small folded paper.

"Do you know what white lilies symbolize? Much like the purity they represent, they embody the wish for our loved ones to find peace. When a loved one departs, our hearts feel heavy with the weight of their absence. Yet, would they wish for us to remain sorrowful in their memory, or would they prefer us to find solace in our happiness, making them a perpetual part of our prayers...?

P.S: There's someone whose life lights up seeing your smile!"

Who knew so much about me, my life, my worries, even my deepest sorrows? Nothing of these thoughts came to mind while reading the letter. If something did affect me, then it was those words, the soft flowery scent, and the lines written in it.

I never shared my feelings about my father with anyone in life. I remember when I asked Mom about him one day, she became truly sad for days, and I stopped asking since then. This was the first time someone shared my pain, advised me, showed me the way to handle the ache I felt whenever I missed my dad. Staring at the beautifully written letter, I felt a lump in my throat. An unintended, sudden smile broke onto my face as I read the P.S.

I had never considered myself the kind of guy who would be impressed with a few words from someone, but gradually, I found myself eagerly waiting for those letters. Eventually, I grew curious about the girl behind them. Despite thinking of myself as a practical guy, I realized I wasn't.

Lifting my head, I gazed towards the heavens and closed my eyes, allowing the cold rain to caress my face.

What's happening to me?

My hands instinctively rose, fingers threading through my damp hair, pushing it back in frustration.

Exhaling a weary sigh, I rose and walked back home with heavy steps. Upon entering my room, I switched on the small night bulb, casting a gentle glow, and settled on the carpet beside the bed.

I reached into the side table's drawer and retrieved the black box containing her letters, lifting the lid.

A delicate, mixed flowery scent wafted through the dimly lit room, evoking complex emotions within me. I selected a plastic-coated pink Astilbe, gazing at it intently.

When I received these flowers alongside each letter, I yearned to preserve them, encasing them in hard plastic. I wished to hold onto every fragment of her—My Illuma!

I still remember one evening when I was perhaps five or six years old. I overheard kids at school discussing the "special one" in their lives. Unable to resist my curiosity , I approached mom to inquire about it.

"Mom, do we all have someone special in our lives?"

Mom, sitting by the fireplace, smiled warmly and patted the spot next to her. "Come, sit, Ares. I'll tell you something important."