ALLURING : Between Two Realms

Chapter 10 - Delirium

I jolted awake with a gasp.

It felt as though I had been pulled out from the deepest trench.

My hand flew to my chest.

To the saffordite pendant, to be exact.

It was warm.

Warmer than it should have been.

My breathing was still uneven, catching between shallow gasps as I tried to calm myself.

For one terrible second, I thought someone had called my name.

Then, suddenly, I remembered the dream.

For years, my dreams had never been ordinary.

Some came once and faded.

Some returned again and again, wearing different faces, different places, different symbols, as though my subconscious was trying to translate something my waking mind could not understand.

Repetitive dreams.

Layered dreams.

The kind that did not feel like imagination, but memory folded into metaphor.

And this one...

this one had appeared before.

In the dream, I saw myself standing in a deep forest surrounded by glowing flowers.

The air was thick with mist.

Too still.

Too silent.

Before me stood a small cottage hidden among the trees.

Its door was shut tight.

But from inside, I heard a cry.

Loud.

Sharp.

Terrifyingly clear.

The cry of a newborn baby.

I froze.

I did not know what to do.

I did not know why I was there.

Before I could process anything, I saw light moving in the distance.

Several men were walking through the thick forest with lanterns in their hands.

Searching for something.

Or perhaps...

someone.

But the strange thing was, they never came closer.

It was as though the cottage and the forest around it were separated from them by an invisible barrier.

Hidden.

Protected.

Unreachable.

My gaze shifted back to the cottage.

That was when I saw him.

A priest.

At least, that was what my mind tried to believe.

He stood before me, tall and unmoving, with a wooden cane in one hand and an old manuscript in the other.

His face was covered beneath a hood.

I could not see his eyes.

But I could feel him watching me.

Waiting.

As though he had been standing there for a very long time.

Then he opened his mouth.

And the moment he began to speak...

I woke up.

I wiped my face with both hands.

My head felt tight.

My mind drifted back to the dream I had just woken from.

What did it mean?

I had seen the same dream three or four times already.

Why did it keep appearing?

I pinched the bridge of my nose as uneasiness began to spread inside my body.

It had only been a thirty-minute nap.

Yet somehow, it felt as though the dream had drained my entire energy.

I glanced at my phone.

Twelve missed calls.

That i***t.

I grunted under my breath.

I needed coffee.

I pushed myself off the couch and walked to the coffee machine in the kitchen. I weighed the coffee beans, poured them into the grinder, and let the machine crush them into a rich, fragrant powder.

The smell helped a little.

Just a little.

I tamped the ground coffee into the portafilter, locked it into place, and watched as dark espresso streamed slowly into the cup beneath it.

The first drop.

The golden crema.

The small comfort of something I could control.

I filled my favorite glass with ice cubes, then poured the espresso over them. After that, I frothed some almond milk until it turned smooth and airy, before pouring it slowly over the coffee.

I needed something sweet, so I drizzled caramel syrup over the top.

There.

A small survival drink.

Then I reheated two pieces of mini waffles, spread hazelnut chocolate over them, and sprinkled some crushed almond nibs on top for texture.

Before sitting down, I went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face.

When I returned to the dining table, I brought along a small bowl of cold watermelon.

That was my lunch.

Or teatime.

I chuckled softly.

I rarely ate lunch on time.

It was always brunch, late lunch, or dinner after fetching the kids.

As I munched on the waffles, my fingers slid across my phone screen, opening messages.

Most of them were from my children's class groups.

Some were from customers.

And then...

there was him.

Him.

I knew him by accident.

He was someone from my neighborhood.

Early forties.

At first, it was only casual messages.

Polite.

Harmless.

Or so I thought.

Then he started showing interest.

Too much interest.

The moment it became uncomfortable, I cut him off completely.

From all my social media.

From my contacts.

Everywhere.

But somehow, these past few days, he had started appearing again with too many messages.

I opened the chat.

Hi, Zattie.

How are you?

Have you eaten?

Why did you block me?

I stared at the screen.

Gosh.

This man was so annoying.

Being a widow had already drawn enough unnecessary whispers around me.

I refused to drag myself into more trouble.

This man was someone else's husband.

Someone's father.

I took a slow breath and forced myself to stay calm.

Then I typed,

If you don't have anything important to say, please don't text me.

I placed my phone face down and continued indulging in my waffles.

Juggling everything alone had become too draining these days.

Sometimes, moments of silence like this felt extremely precious to me.

After that, I took a shower.

By the time I was ready to leave and pick up the kids from school, it was already three forty-five.

The road had started to feel busy.

The weather felt too hot for me.

I adjusted the air conditioner, letting the cold air fill the car.

At first, it helped.

Then, for some strange reason, it began to feel too cold.

I sighed softly.

The uneasiness crept back in.

Not just into my body.

Into my mind too.

The waiting line at the pick-up area was smooth.

The teacher on duty brought my kids to the car, and I thanked her before letting them settle into the back seat.

For a moment, everything was fine.

Then all hell broke loose.

"Hey! It's my plushie!" Maya said, snatching the plush toy from Arya.

Arya started crying.

And for some strange reason, Hanna started shouting.

"Stop crying, Arya! It's too loud!" she yelled, covering her ears with both hands.

For a split second, something inside me stilled.

Hanna.

She had always been some sort of mirror to me.

Not only in her face.

But in her character too.

And for a while now, I had been wondering...

Was she also an empath?

Like me?

"Kids, please behave," I said, trying to calm them while keeping my focus on the road.

But Arya's crying grew louder, and Maya acted as if nothing had happened.

I inhaled slowly.

"What if I buy you girls ice cream?" I asked.

A pause.

"Only if all of you behave."

Silence fell instantly.

Of course.

On days like this, takeaway dinner or drive-thru was the perfect choice.

I drove to the nearest fast food restaurant, entered the drive-thru lane, and placed the order.

My kids' choices were pretty much the same each time.

Kids' meals with toys.

And soft-serve ice cream for each of them.

There.

I had bought myself a little peace for the drive home.

And by the time I pulled the handbrake in the garage, they had already finished their ice cream.

The moment we entered the house, the routine began again.

Bags on the floor.

Shoes kicked somewhere they did not belong.

Dinner boxes opened.

Hands washed.

Arguments over toys.

Someone spilled water.

Someone refused to eat properly.

Someone suddenly decided the living room was a playground.

I took a long breath and told myself it was only the sugar.

The ice cream.

The excitement.

The long day.

But deep down, I knew it was not only them.

It was me too.

My body was already exhausted before the noise even began.

Every cry scraped against my nerves.

Every shout struck too close.

Every small demand felt heavier than it should have been.

I showered them one by one.

Prepared dinner.

Cleaned what I could.

Ignored what I could not.

By night, the house looked lived in, loud in the way only a house with children could be.

But inside me, something was thinning.

I forced the girls to bed earlier than usual.

Not gently.

Not perfectly.

Just desperately.

"Enough," I whispered, more to myself than to them. "Please. Just sleep."

They resisted, of course.

One asked for water.

Another wanted her blanket fixed.

Someone remembered a story I had no energy to tell.

Someone cried because someone else touched her pillow.

I closed my eyes.

Counted my breaths.

Swallowed the scream sitting at the back of my throat.

And somehow, after what felt like forever, silence finally came.

One by one, their breathing softened.

The room grew still.

They slept.

I remained standing in the doorway for a moment, staring at them.

My beautiful girls.

My tiny storms.

My little mirrors.

And then...

I broke.

Quietly at first.

A hand pressed over my mouth.

A trembling breath.

A tear slipping down my cheek before I could stop it.

Then another.

And another.

I walked back to my room, closed the door, and sank to the floor.

The tears came harder there.

Ugly.

Silent.

Helpless.

I wept until my chest hurt.

Until my body folded around the pain.

Until every feeling I had swallowed throughout the day finally tore its way out of me.

I was tired.

So tired. Tired of being strong. Tired of being needed. Tired of feeling everything before anyone even said a word.

The saffordite pendant rested cold against my chest.

Then warm. Then burning.

I clutched it without knowing why.

"I can't do this," I whispered.

The words broke apart inside the room.

"I can't feel all of this anymore."

And somewhere far beyond the walls of my house...

beyond the rainless night... beyond the veil itself...

something answered.

In the Other Realm, Arjuna stopped breathing.

Far away, in his chamber of silver twilight, Ravynn's hand tightened around the Nuummite.

Neither of them spoke.

Neither of them understood why.