Rainy Present

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Rain is beautiful

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Rain is beautiful.

Just like his words. Fake, they might seem. Adorned with shining emerald stones of chivalry. Seductive, like a poisonous flower, beautiful to look at but deadly to touch. Comforting to a certain level, like all things sweet and warm. Surreal.

Rain is beautiful.

It washes away the grime that has accumulated from heavy pollution and fine dust. It refreshes the weather and saves souls from the scorch of a season that knows no mercy. Just as he tried to replace the distrust and disappointment with what could or couldn't be better than what was served.

Sat, he was, in full glory, full of confidence. Unbothered by the misty air that seeped through the window, the smell of cigarettes, or her naked body. There was a feeling in his demeanor that was hard to name, something vague, ambiguous, just like the unclear weather that refused to stand in one particular edge. Heavy breaths sometimes got expelled from his lungs, whether to recover from the harshness of the situation or simply to fill up with fresh oxygen, not sure.

The chair welcomed his manspread like a woman would welcome a hug. Muscular thighs, each on a separate side, left little to the imagination. He sighed, she did too, each for a different reason.

Rain is beautiful, as is the way he graced the armrests with the touch of his forearms. He had deprived his thigh of the touch of his elbow, favoring the oak surface instead. And to the ground, he was unfaithful, too, choosing the edge of the bed as a resting place for his foot. Broad were his shoulders, trained from carrying her world as he rested them against the backrest. He sighed again, and she found herself expelling the puff of tar she held involuntarily.

"It's not working, we can't force it. We're not fit."

His words were cut with a sharpened sashimi knife. Straightforward and direct. Divergent from the sweetness that used to drip from every letter, synonym, and adverb. Time stood still, he in his chair and she at the edge of the window, still trying to digest the situation with the aid of nicotine and humid air.

With decisions, there is an invisible line that, once torn, cannot be repaired. He had crossed that line; she had made him, forced him to take action.

Now, well, now she was having second thoughts. Unnecessary thoughts.

"Is it that easy for you?"

No, it wasn't. She taught him how to render it easier despite the difficulty.

And the world spun with extra vigor the moment the silence that followed her question came to an end. It had been pleasant, despite the irritation. A kind of anticipation that gave hope. She liked hope, and he had lost it.

Because of her.

"That's the way it should be. For the best of both of us. A greater good."

Rain is beautiful, it was her favorite weather, but not anymore.

Rainy was their wedding day. Guests were worried about their outfits; women more about their hair, some about their mascara, men in their usual indifferent behavior. It had been held outside, in the courtyard of her house. A small party made big by the intensity of their vows. So lavish in its simplicity that it was imprinted in their memories until everyday struggles erased it.

"I can't envision a life without you."

"But you can't lead a life with me either."

But love can only save so much from the cruelty of life. Love is neither the medicine nor the doctor. Love cannot bring a dead man back to life, for it is neither god nor sorcerer.

"I can't sign these papers; I can't let you go. Call me selfish if you want, but I can't. I don't want to get divorced."

They were many things others wished to be, but they became everything others dreaded. Such is life, a movie with many twists and turns. They loved intensely, they also hated at the same level. For when there was love between them, honesty was missing.

"It doesn't matter if you do or not. This is over. We are over."

A slap was the way he tossed the ring across the table. Long gone was his glorious seating form, replaced in seconds by his standing posture, collected and determined demeanor. Gone was the hesitation because even if he wanted to show otherwise, it had never been there to begin with.

Lost were the years of love, the passion, the intensity of devotion. He would argue against that, would say that he was never loved enough to stay, and you would say that he never had the intention to, to begin with.

Missed will be the memories of a rosy story that turned black, somber with the cold breaths of the ghost of betrayal. Of lies. You would say that you knew him enough to blindly trust him with your soul and every precious thing you ever owned, but he would say that he never had the disgrace of knowing the person standing before him at that moment. That he would rather not have any kind of link with her...with you.

"You will regret this, I will make sure of it, Jeon Jungkook."

But almost gone he was, and even if he wasn't over the threshold physically yet, he was miles away from you mentally. At bay, he was, from the lies, the danger, and everything twisted that you brought with you upon entering his life.

"Then keep an eye on me, watch me prove you wrong."


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Hey! See, I kept my word. The prologue is published as promised.

I'm really curious to know what you think about it. Your guesses of what it could be about.

Hopefully, you will like this book. kinda nervous hehe.



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