In the Temple of Tibet
The room was bathed in a soft, ethereal light, the gentle hum of ancient chants resonating through the walls. As Heretic stirred, he took in the surroundings, momentarily disoriented. The white draperies and the golden hues felt otherworldly. He half-expected to see wings sprouting from the back of the serene-faced woman sitting beside him.
"Am... am I dead?" he whispered, his voice hoarse, eyes wide with wonderment and disbelief. "Is this... heaven?"
The woman, her face illuminated by the soft glow, let out a gentle chuckle, her eyes dancing with mirth. Reaching out, she playfully poked his nose, making him blink in surprise.
"Neither dead nor in heaven, dear one," Marinette replied, her tone light and comforting. "But I can see why you'd think that."
He observed her for a moment, taking in her calm demeanor and kind eyes. "Where am I then?"
Marinette smiled, her gaze warm. "You are in Tibet, in my humble abode. You were brought here to be healed. And it seems my work isn't quite done yet." She waved her hand, showcasing the various mystical artifacts and healing tools surrounding them. "Your body still needs stabilizing."
Days passed in what felt like a harmonious blend of time, each day marked by the progress Heretic made and the deepening bond between him and Marinette. To outsiders, he remained the intimidating figure they'd come to know, his expressions icy, an air of danger forever looming. But with Marinette, a softer side emerged. With her, he felt seen, truly seen, perhaps for the first time in his tumultuous existence.
One afternoon, as they sat in the temple garden, basking in the sunlight filtering through the trees, Marinette leaned over and gently lifted the corners of his lips into a smile using her fingers.
"You know, you could smile every now and then," she teased, her voice gentle. "It might just make you feel better."
Heretic looked at her, the ghost of a smile still lingering on his face. For a moment, he felt a warmth he had never experienced, a sensation of being genuinely cherished.
Yet, as days turned into weeks, a shadow began to creep into their tranquil existence. One evening, while they chatted animatedly about the past, Marinette mentioned, "Your expressions... sometimes, they remind me of that boy's."
The air grew tense. Heretic's face darkened, his jaw clenched. Even without her uttering his name, he knew instantly she referred to Damian. Those borrowed memories surged forth, vividly painting the time Damian had spent with Marinette. A pang of jealousy pierced through him, a feeling he couldn't shake off.
"Why do you mention him?" he asked, his voice taking on a colder tone.
Marinette, sensing the shift in his mood, replied softly, "Because he too had a storm within him, much like you. But there was kindness, a longing to belong. I see the same in you.
"But he met you first," Heretic said, the bitterness evident. "Why couldn't it have been me?"
Marinette moved closer, her gaze searching his. "It doesn't matter who came first. What matters is the present, the connection we share now. Embrace it, instead of dwelling on what could have been."
Heretic took a deep breath, the weight of Marinette's words sinking in. But deep inside, the seed of envy had already been planted, threatening to overshadow the bond they had built.
So what do you all think about this story? Please share, like and comment. I'll see you all in the next chapter Bye... 😘😘