Juliette
He warned me we were doomed from the start, and I should have listened. But some fires burn too hot to resist.
Now, I'm trapped in a vicious cycle of desire, tangled up in Areston's dangerous world. Every kiss, every touch pulls me deeper...
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(10 DAYS AFTER THE SIREN ENDS)
PRESENT DAY
DAY SEVENTY-SIX FROM ARESTON AND JULIETTE'S FIRST MEETING OUTSIDE DEVIL'S DEN
MONDAY. JUNE 12, 2023, ~10:00 AM NYC
*****
The hum of East 74th Street envelops me, a comforting yet chaotic symphony that only this city can play. I sit in the backseat of the Maybach with the window rolled down, leaning back against the seat and letting the vibrant life of the city wash over me.
The cool breeze carries with it a cocktail of scents – the unmistakable aroma of my favorite Melon's yummy burgers being served to people enjoying them in the outdoor setting mixed with hotdogs sizzling on nearby stands.
People are swarming the sidewalks. A woman hurries past, her heels clicking rhythmically against the pavement, while a street musician fills the air with the soulful notes of a saxophone.
The city is alive, pulsating with energy, and despite the ache in my heart, I can't help but feel its pull.
Manhattan, in all its unyielding splendor, I muse, feels just the same as I'd left it once when I moved to Paris and then again three weeks back when I escaped my reality with Areston. Yet I am irrevocably changed.
I've lost myself and now I don't even recognize who I am anymore. Surviving nine days without Areston has been plain agonizing. There's this relentless ache clinging to my chest. An invisible anchor that keeps pulling me into the depths of despair, deeper everyday. A void accompanies every breath I take. I've been down this road before, and I am back at it once again.
Maybe I'm a masochist. That's the only logical explanation why I would dive back into a new emotional trauma, even though I still haven't recovered from the old one.
I close my eyes as the familiar cold heaviness settles into me at the thought. His cruel rejection is still a pounding ache beneath my chest. He was afraid to hold me too close, even though he was terrified to let me go. In his eyes, I was both the storm and the haven, a paradox he couldn't reconcile. And so, he did what came naturally to him. He chose to push me away.
I can't even blame him.
It was my mistake I lived in a fantasy land even though he had clearly warned me not to.
He's the only ever relationship I've had, the only man I've ever been with so I didn't realize that just because he has the face of the person I once knew, he's not the same person anymore. Had I been in his place, perhaps I would've done the same thing he did. Or maybe not because I'm a hopeless romantic. The truth is, I don't know what I would've done in his place.
The tight knot of agony mushrooms all over again, not that it ever settled down, and it makes my heart ache all over again in a way that it's almost physical.
