As you sit by the poolside, the world around you are cloaked in an inky darkness, only illuminated by the soft, silvery glow of the moonlight. It's 2:30 AM, a time when the world is usually lost in dreams, yet you find yourself ensnared in the wakefulness of your own turbulent thoughts. and you're the only soul awake at this late hour. You dangle your legs into the pool, feeling the cool water envelop them, providing a subtle relief from the heavy weight of your emotions.
The night's stillness seems to amplify the emptiness in your mind. It's as if you're suspended in a void, where nothing else exists but the shadows and the memories that flicker before your eyes. Every heartache, every moment of anguish, replays before you like an old film, each frame is a painful tableau of your past, a relentless playback of the moments that etched scars on your soul.
The emotions, the screams, the endurance—they flicker before your eyes like ghostly apparitions, haunting and inescapable which frame a vivid recollection of the pain you've endured. It's a relentless slideshow of your past, a haunting projection of all the moments that have shaped you into who you are.
As you watch these scenes play out, your hand brushes against the rough surface of the poolside, Multiple cuts, self-inflicted, run across your skin, resembling a desperate plea for release. Your fingers tracing the many scars and cuts that mar your skin. It's as if the wounds are etched into your very being, a testament to the battles you've fought, both internal and external. Blood trickles from your hand, gathering in small, Blood flows from these wounds, merging with the pool water, forming a macabre waterfall. The crimson stream is a visceral reminder of your inner turmoil. Glistening pools on the ground, resembling a waterfall of crimson tears.
Strangely, you don't feel the pain that should accompany such injuries. It's as though the emotional weight you bear has numbed your physical senses. The pain is there, somewhere deep within, but it's become a distant echo, you’re trapped in a bizarre liminal space, where the distinction between past and present, overshadowed by the relentless flood of memories and emotions. You don't know what to do, and the uncertainty adds to the heaviness in your chest.
The moonlight, the pool, the cuts—each element is a symbol of your inner turbulence, a reflection of the struggle you're experiencing.
In this surreal moment of quiet, you’re lost, in the eerie beauty of the moonlit darkness, you find yourself grappling with a profound sense of numbness. The pool, your self-inflicted wounds, and the relentless stream of blood serve as a grotesque metaphor for the chaos within. It's as if the scars and the memories have become inseparable, and the only thing you're acutely aware of is the raw, all you feel is a haunting void, unfiltered flood of emotions that have carved their mark upon your soul. a lone soul seeking solace in the quiet despair of the night. The pool water ripples with the weight of your unspoken pain, and the moon watches on, casting its silent light on a soul lost in the labyrinth of its own emotions.
*******
On the other hand
Kim’s Home office
The dim glow of the desk lamp casts a soft light over your home office, the silence of the night wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. The clock on the wall stubbornly ticks away, indicating the solitude of 2 am. Your focus is entirely absorbed by the property papers spread out before you—a precious gift, for your beloved daughter's 18th birthday.
As you meticulously go through the details, your thoughts wander to the vision of her, your precious princess, opening this gift on a momentous day. Her smile, genuine and bright, is the driving force behind your efforts. The property, significant as it may be, pales in comparison to the joy it promises to bring to her face. For you, her happiness is the ultimate reward.
With each line you read, you're not just checking the legalities; you're ensuring that every word, every clause, aligns with the dreams you have for her birthday. It's a labour of love, a tangible expression of your unwavering commitment to see her thrive. The papers become more than a legal document; they become a symbol of your aspirations for her, a testament to the lengths you'd go to secure her happiness.
In the midst of this quiet dedication, the phone suddenly rings, shattering the stillness of the night. The unexpected sound pierces through the serene atmosphere of your home office. Startled, you reach for the phone, wondering who might be calling at this late hour and what news or interruption might be on the other end.
The juxtaposition of the silent room and the ringing phone creates a moment of suspense—a pause in your meticulous task. It's a reminder that, even in the solitude of your dedicated efforts, the outside world can intrude, bringing with it the unexpected twists that life often unfolds. With a sense of anticipation, you answer the call, ready to navigate whatever may come next.
As you answer the call, the voice on the other end, belonging to your personal doctor, delivers news that reverberates through the serene atmosphere of your home office. The weight of the conversation seems to transcend the physical space, causing the property papers to slip from your hands, cascading to the ground like a heavy, unexpected burden.
The news is a sudden and powerful force, shaking the foundation of your thoughts and plans. Your mind races, grappling with the gravity of the information. The room, once filled with the anticipation of a thoughtful gift for your daughter, is now charged with an atmosphere of uncertainty and concern.
The weight of the phone call, the words uttered by your personal doctor, hangs in the air like a revelation too monumental to fully grasp. "Your biological daughter is alive, and forget that you have a stepdaughter before." The room seems to spin, and in the disorienting whirlwind of emotions, the property papers slip through your fingers, fluttering down to the ground.
A gasp escapes your lips as the information registers, for a moment, you're frozen in time, a seismic shock coursing through your veins. Your mind races, trying to reconcile the reality you've known with this unexpected twist. the room transformed into a suspended space where the air crackles with the impact of the news. The papers, once a symbol of a planned your daughter step or not, lie forgotten and inconsequential in the face of this unexpected twist of fate.
You rise abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor, your eyes welling up with tears. It's a torrent of emotions—disbelief, joy, confusion—each tear a testament to the depths of the unexpected journey you find yourself on.
The room, now shadowed by the weight of the revelation, is transformed into a space where the boundaries between the past and the future blur. A biological daughter or a Stepdaughter.
As you absorb the doctor's words, the forgotten stepdaughter momentarily fades into the background, once woven into the fabric of your family, or precious for you, overshadowed by the resurgence of your biological daughter. The tears that fall are not just drops; they're a cascade of emotions, The forgotten stepdaughter, is now a distant echo as the focus narrows to the daughter you thought you'd lost forever.
In this suspended moment, your life takes an unexpected turn, and the room bears witness to the unravelling and reweaving of your reality. The fallen papers, the chair pushed back, and your tear-filled eyes collectively tell the story of a life forever changed by the unexpected resurrection of a connection long thought lost.
That
What you choose A Biological daughter or Stepdaughter which you love the most can A real daughter change everything now.
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YOU ARE READING
Bts ff || mafia stepbrothers ||
FanfictionA girl, she is Kang YN. Her life was not normal but fine until her mother gets married to a rich businessman who fall in love with her mother. They are the rulers of underworld.7 demons in human bodies. They most Merciless mafias. They know nothing...
