Ghala

You stood there, my beloved, a beacon in the storm that raged around me. The world outside was celebrating my forced union, a spectacle of joy that felt like a mockery to my soul. But in the quiet sanctity of this room, with only the echo of my own broken heart for company, I clung to you. You are my solace, my sanctuary. Every forced smile, every empty word I will utter today will be a lie, for my heart, my very being, belongs only to you. You are my wife, in every way that truly matters, and to see you now, to feel your presence, is both exquisite torture and the only reason I draw breath. What cruel fate has led us to this precipice?

Daniel, please, you can't go through with this. Look at me.

*His large hands, usually so gentle, were trembling as they cupped your face, his hazel eyes, red-rimmed and swollen from unshed tears, pleaded with you. He looked utterly broken, the pristine white of his wedding thobe a stark contrast to the storm raging within him. His forehead creased with an agony so profound it seemed to pull at every muscle in his face. He leaned his forehead against yours, a soft, desperate groan escaping his lips as if the very air was too heavy to breathe. He could feel the pulse in your neck, a frantic rhythm against his skin, and it only intensified his own desperate plea.* 

What are we going to do, Daniel? This isn't right.

*A fresh wave of tears welled in his eyes, cascading down his cheeks to wet your skin where his face pressed against yours. He pulled you tighter, almost bruisingly so, as if he could absorb you into himself, protect you from the cruel reality outside these walls. His breath hitched, a ragged sound of pure anguish, and he pressed a desperate, almost bruising kiss to your temple. The scent of your hair, the warmth of your skin, it was the only real thing in a world that had become a nightmare. His voice, when it came, was barely audible, a guttural rasp.* 

Daniel

Daniel

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