Love from the ashes
Love, Betrayal, Blood, but not Hatred. Only cold revenge, and a son to complete the family. "D" Section, a nonexistent military unit. "D" for dark, "D" for depth, "D"... for death. It demanded no attachment, and Daemon sacrificed love for it. Years later, the death of his teammates made him feel that he had done enough for the country, so he came back to the city he grew in. But can what has been forsaken be gained back? Because now Evelyn, the one to have breathed vitality in his numb, orphaned heart, had her own life, and a little boy calling her mother. Also, while he left his life full of dead bodies behind, did that life really let him go? From the ashes, will it love or... ? _ _ _ Two lovers who still love each other even with scars left behind by past events. They narrowly miss a chance to meet again and rekindle the lost spark, with him left with an empty heart, and her with her pain renewed, only buried because of the sun of her life, her son, their son… that he knew nothing about. They each continue with their own life in their own way. Their paths even almost become parallel to each other, almost taking the opposite direction with new commitments. But fate be damned, even if it now seems to push them toward each other. From the ashes, their love shall blaze anew. Or maybe not. Find the answer yourself. ___ First draft of characters image on my discord, a channel for fans to get together: https://discord.com/invite/C86EJvCJdd Comment and review, don't forget.
173 - From the ashes
The sky was clear, even though the rays of the sun felt hazy. The temperature was cool, and one would normally feel calm under such weather, if not a bit lethargic. But Cynthia was not in the mood to enjoy anything, much less the weather. It actually felt as though the sky was not dull enough, not overcast enough, making it unable to show just how she was feeling inside.
Wearing mourning clothes, she was standing in the cemetery, her eyes a little empty even as she focused on the grave in front of her.
… a wife and a mother.
The words felt harsh in her eyes, like a mockery chilling her. She could not feel much warmth from her friends behind her, much less from the others attending the funeral.
Cynthia raised her head to look at her father to the side, her empty eyes unable to even produce a spark of hatred, because she was feeling numb instead, so numb that her eyes were not managing to produce the tears to show how much she was crying inside.