I Regret A Lot Of Things
The quiet creak of a door echoed in the room as Asher stepped in, his eyes falling upon Rachel's form against the wall. Her fair forehead was leaning into the cold surface, and her fist was pressing against it, an image of vulnerability and strife.
"Are you still struggling to come to terms with reality?" Asher probed, his lips curving up into an empathetic smile.
"Stop..." came Rachel's faint plea, her head still bowed, voice barely a whisper against the heavy air.
Unswayed, Asher closed the distance between them, his movements silent but assertive.
He reached out, grasping her arm firmly to turn her towards him, her long blue hair cascading in a fluid motion, revealing her face—radiant blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears.