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Loss, the meaning of the word could be compared to many meanings, emotions and actions. One could feel the sting of a lost job, of a friendship or a cherished dream, but the worst loss was the loss of a life.

Human beings were raised to understand death as part of the natural circle of life. We dealt with it in our daily lives and it was the most common piece of information spread across all channels. However, as Milira stood in Drake's arms, her eyes swollen and burning, her tears sticking to her cheeks and wetting Drake's designer shirt, she found no peace in the understanding of loss. Her mind spun; her world desolate.

Death. The word chanted a grave note in her mind.

Could it really be true? She cried and grieved but parts of her mind wanted to believe that the news couldn't be true. She wanted to believe that Alexander was travelling abroad or missing but still breathing and living as she did in this instant. Her body, though, reacted different to her reasoning as it vibrated with her hiccups and her knees knocked together until her legs caved and her eyelids closed. The darkness blocked out the pitying faces around her. To see them, and know they comprehended better than her, frightened her because it meant she needed to throw away the possibilities of Alexander still being alive.

Milira couldn't accept it, not yet. The world behind her eyelids reassured her and shielded her in a drifting comfort, it promised her she wouldn't need to think, to believe, to know, or understand. Despite blocking her mind from all emotional woes, her body refused to grow numb. Every breath, hiccup, tear, and touch intensified. It reacted as a body naturally did, unknowing and without permission from her.

Drake's touch vanished and Milira slipped forward, ready to hit the floor, crawl into a ball, and just obliterate. However, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her and scooped her up, bridal style, carrying her away.

The heartbeat of the stranger sounded in her ear, calmer, and slower than her own which sped erratically. A man had never picked her up with such ease and poise yet she couldn't enjoy it. In any other circumstance she'd be blushing a violent red, her mind whirling with the heat pressed to her side and the gentle squeezing of strong fingers brushing her ribs. She'd be acutely aware of the man's proximity or his peppermint breath stroking her hair but as her head rested on his broad shoulder, she hoped never to see the man again. In all fairness, he didn't do anything wrong, but he saw her at her weakest and it scared her as even in her emotional position, a dangerous awareness made itself know, one she recognised. She didn't want to feel it. The timing horrid. Lust had no place among grieving, but as a twisted addiction, it whispered of easing her pain by melting it into heated bodies and raspy moans. It could bring her to euphoria and carry her away. She experienced it before, but not with the same intensity as she did now.

Grief brought out the worst in her, she decided. She refrained from squirming in the man's supporting grip, and shielded herself. Otherwise, in her vulnerable state she could lose everything to such a man. But, as the man eased her down and she slammed the lid on her lust shut, the fantasies dispersed, leaving her weak and empty, devoid of distraction. No fantasy could bring back the dead. Her uncle left the world, and no ifs, no form of believe, or otherworldly wishes could give him life again.

Without acknowledging her, or a pitying apology over her uncle's death or a merger goodbye, the stranger's heat slipped away. She grew cold and alone, her ears picking up faint noises. Her eyes remained close, and her lips locked, not trusting herself to whisper a thank you to the stranger. He said a clipped goodbye to his uncles and promised to see them soon. The man's soft footfalls disappeared. She breathed in, thankful for his absence, without him and the prying eyes of the ones around her, she could crumble fully.

And crumble she did as she rolled onto her side and cried until the tears refused to fall and her head wanted to break in two. She found herself shutting down and an exhausted yawn escaped her mouth, leaving her with a jolting muscle and a dip into dreamland where the haunting and happy images of her uncle haunted her.

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