Whispers In The Dark

• 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝟷 •

The moon cast its gentle glow upon the world below, illuminating the scattered droplets of dew that adorned the landscape like precious jewels. In the embrace of night, a million shimmering stars stared back at me, captivating my senses. Wisps of clouds danced across the navy sky, occasionally difficult to see or understand. the moon's radiance, only to unveil its ethereal light once more. The night sky, painted with the brilliance of countless stars, held me captive, contrasting against the serene blue backdrop and filling me with wonder and warmth.

But between this enchanting scene, a deep ache stayed within my heart. The devastating loss of my parents had shattered my very being, leaving me fragmented and irreparable. Though time had passed since that day but the pain remained ever-present, a constant reminder of what I had lost.

As I wandered beneath the watchful gaze of the stars, memories of a time when they were still with me flooded my thoughts, evoking a profound longing.

My parents had been my everything-the anchors that kept me grounded, the guiding lights that illuminated my path. Their love was a heaven, a safe haven where I could always find solace and understanding. But with their death, a void had been carved into the very core of my existence.

I felt adrift, a ship lost at sea, with no compass to guide me. The love they showered upon me was unmatched, and in their absence, it felt as though a part of me had been burned.

Grief and loss had become constant companions, forging chains of anger and frustration within me. At times, the weight of sorrow pushed me to lash out at the world, my emotions surging like a tempestuous sea. Yet deep down, I knew this was not the path my parents would have wanted for me.

I try to find solace in their memories, to channel their love into resilience and strength. Each day became a battle, a struggle to navigate the intricate labyrinth of grief, where hope and healing seemed like distant idea.

From the tender age of a child, my parents had uprooted our lives and embarked on a journey from Korea to the United States. In this foreign land, they had built a home filled with love and warmth, a testament to their unwavering devotion.

I, their child, bore the fusion of their two worlds-a testament to their love story. Though they were physically absent, their legacy endured, etched deep into the fabric of my existence.

Fortune had smiled upon me, as I had inherited their wealth, freeing me from the struggle of financial burdens. Yet, even with the comforts that wealth bestowed, an emptiness persisted-a longing for a love that is something more meaningful than this world, a longing for a companion who would walk beside me through the ups and downs of life.

And then, there was Kat-my kindred spirit, my confidante, my steadfast best friend. She possessed an effortless beauty, her golden brown hair like a waterfall, and her eyes, the color of emerald, radiating with a wisdom beyond her years. Our connection ran deeper than mere friendship, as if our souls recognized each other from the moment we met.