[Sequel of Warm Love, hence can't be read as a standalone.]
In the first phase, Reyansh concealed a web of mysteries, but as they stand face to face once more, it's Kiraz who holds the tantalizing secrets waiting to be unveiled. These hidden truths...
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Nightmares!
In the shadowed embrace of night, a tempest of memories storms within me. Each heartbeat echoes the bitter taste of regret, entwined with the ghostly touch of her lips against mine, a crimson imprint haunting my consciousness.
Her soft lips, the red tinted one, glued against mine.
How the fuck her lips were on mine. And, I was the rascal who initiated it. The fact I don't regret, just make me want to shoot myself right against my chest. The fabric of reality constricts around me, suffocating in its grasp, as I struggle against the relentless tide of emotions.
I unbutton my shirt, tossing it somewhere in the room. My breath was harsh, harsher than it intended. The feeling of the walls closing, trapping me, like the nuisance of thoughts harboring me in not letting me think straight, displaying my vulnerability.
I dash out of the room, peddling furiously on the spiral stairs, I exist the house. The chill of the outside air bites at my exposed skin, but I press on, driven by an impulse I cannot resist.
With each step closer to the pool, the mayhem of thoughts numbs my rationality. As I shed my sweatpants and surrender to the icy embrace of the water, a symphony of sensations engulfs me.
The cold water envelops me making the decrease of my body temperature. My breath catches, and chill bites my skin. Yet, even as I sink deeper, enveloped in the icy depths, blocking my nostril, ear an stinging eyes, her presence lingers, a haunting specter that refuses to fade.
I can never forget her, can I?
The smudged lipstick, the fiery cascade of red hair, each detail etched into the fabric of my memory, refusing to be washed away by the icy waters that surround me.
Every stroke through the chilly water feels like a graceful struggle, a rhythmic dance with the cold. I swim back to the corner of the pool and lean against the cold tiles, water streaming from my hair, cascading down to my face and touching my lips.
I bite down hard, tasting the metallic tang of blood, yet her flavor still lingers in my mouth. The room is cold, but I hardly notice, consumed as I am by deep contemplation. My chest is bare, the silver chain resting against my tattooed skin, a silent witness to the turmoil within.
