The Enigma of Love: Scars, Smiles, and Solitude

"Wow... such pristine surroundings?" Michelle's eyes widened in astonishment as she emerged from her room, finding me in the process of tucking cleaning tools into a neatly arranged closet.

Michelle's apartment, situated on the twenty second floor of an aging yet chic high-rise, was a sanctuary of solitude in the midst of the city's never-ending hustle. As one stepped inside, the warmth of the place greeted you, a striking contrast to the often harsh, windblown concrete jungle outside.

The walls were painted a soothing eggshell white, adorned with black and white photography - mostly shots of cityscapes and deserted places, testament to a life of deliberate solitude. Framed by the sunlit windows, they provided the space with an air of both austerity and elegance. Yet, in the corners, where the light didn't quite reach, the walls held a dull loneliness, whispering of hours spent in solitude.

In the living room, a plush crimson velvet sofa faced a fireplace, unlit in the summer months. A line of well-thumbed novels, mostly romantic classics and mystery thrillers, rested on the coffee table, suggesting an attempt to fill the quiet hours. A glass bookshelf stood to one side, its shelves brimming with an eclectic mix of books, perhaps a mirror of Michelle's diverse interests. The television seemed almost out of place in this quiet refuge, seldom used, acting more as a decoration than an electronic appliance.

"Michelle, it's time for a change..." I voiced, my gaze meeting hers.

"You mean, my attire or my look?" she queried, flaunting her clothing that hadn't been altered since the previous night.

"Both."

Her attention was soon captured by the dining table, where a wholesome, light breakfast of eggs, thinly sliced ham, a pile of crusty bread, and a boxed milk awaited her consumption. "As for my attire, I'll make the switch post breakfast. As for my looks... well, we ought to be grateful for God's endowments," she expressed, nonchalantly commencing her morning meal. I couldn't help but contort my face in a grimace.

"Is it my appearance that you find displeasing?" she inquired.

(Of course not, after all, everyone is born to appreciate beauty.)

I observed Michelle, her eyes reflecting a subtle melancholy. The playful banter I intended to toss around caught in my throat. Gradually, I moved towards her, delicately planting a kiss on her weathered cheek and tenderly brushing through her hair. "Here, drink," I proffered, pouring milk into Michelle's vacant glass. "You do realize I won't resist if you'd be gracious enough to mimic my favorite celebrity's demeanor. You know, the most beautiful Lisa. Come on, make my day."

"Hmm... hmm... Keep fantasizing," retorted Michelle, her focus unbroken from her breakfast. I maneuvered a chair to sit by her, keeping her company, taking in the grandeur of her luxurious apartment now pristinely cleaned, predominantly bathing in hues of white. It was a stark contrast from the disarray of the previous night – the clothing strewn about, bottles and plates littering the place, and neglected food decayed into something unsightly.

"Michelle, wouldn't it be more practical if you hired a housekeeper to maintain order in your apartment weekly?"

Michelle's sweet smile graced her face as she responded, "I already have one," her finger subtly pointing at me as she continued relishing her breakfast.

One day I'll kick her butt.

I could only sigh, it's almost countless how many times I've cleaned Michelle's room when I brought her home. I didn't want to do it but I always couldn't stand being in such a messy and dirty place. Every time I delivered Michelle I always ended up staying overnight as I didn't have a way to get home at that late hour. And it's impossible for me to sleep among such a mess, unconsciously my hands would always move to tidy a small area around the sofa for me to sleep. Usually, after starting with a small part, I would end up cleaning another small part like the kitchen and in the end, cleaning everything.

"Your sofa, it really has a curse," I said unconsciously. Michelle chuckled and immediately teased me full of hope, "Jaime, why don't you sleep in my room, isn't my bed big enough?"

(Just to wake up in a state of shock?)

"No, thank you."

"Come on, it's been an eternity since I found solace in your arms."

***

I regarded her through narrowed eyes, memories flooding back at her words. The first night I discovered Michelle's true form was etched vividly in my mind. It was the first time I had driven Michelle home, her senses numbed by alcohol's sweet seduction at Eve's Bar. I had delivered countless bottles to her apartment before, but it was the first time I had ever escorted her home at night. I was a swirling mix of stupidity and fortune.

Who wouldn't feel fortunate to drive home a woman so enchanting, sweet, and kind? A woman who, in addition, possessed an untold wealth of superhuman abilities!

But as I parked Michelle's car in her apartment's lot, a scream of shock escaped my lips. I instantly fled the car, distancing myself from the creature slumbering in the passenger seat. There, sprawled in the seat, was a terrifying creature that bore a grotesque resemblance to a decomposing corpse. For a fleeting moment, I was convinced I was ensnared in the grasp of a ghost, a monster, or a supernatural creature out to terrorize me.

With my face pale and my fear palpable, I reached out to Master in the hopes of securing the aid of a spiritual leader or an exorcist capable of banishing this creature and returning the beautiful girl it had devoured. Master answered my desperate call with laughter, and proceeded to lay bare the truth. With a monumental effort, I came to terms with the situation and carried the sleeping Michelle to her apartment.

Her residence, a fortress of electronic locks and biometric scans, opened at the touch of her hand. After tucking Michelle in, it occurred to me that I, too, needed her handprint to leave the room. The sight of Michelle, peacefully asleep, melted my resolve to wake her. The sight of the empty bed, plush and inviting, tempted me beyond reason.

Faced with a choice between a restful slumber with a monster and a sleepless night, I preferred the former.

***

Refilling Michelle's glass with milk, I was rewarded with a smile of pure joy dancing in her captivating eyes. Her natural eye color, a bright blue, was one I rarely came across. I wondered what she would have looked like if she had never suffered her injuries. Surely, she would have been breathtaking.

Michelle blushed, stealing a glance at me. Oh, please, don't give me that look. I'll turn tail and flee in fear.

***

Her bedroom, a symphony of muted colors, was the most personal space. A king-sized bed draped in clean white linens dominated the room. A single nightstand stood guard by its side, an alarm clock and a rotating collection of novels its constant companions. Across the room, a dressing table displayed an array of makeup, untouched for days. The wardrobe, neatly organized, was filled with BtP attire, a stark reminder of Michelle's professional life outside the apartment.

The memory of the first night we shared her bed was still fresh. I still remember waking up, screaming in surprise and horror, to find a monstrous figure huddled close, staring intently at me. My body reacted instinctively, pushing me away from the creature until I tumbled off the bed. I was convinced I was trapped in a nightmare, pursued by a zombie risen from the grave. The sudden jolt of pain from hitting the floor brought me back to reality, and I looked up at the bed. The creature sat there, gazing at me with eyes filled with sadness and hurt.

That sight is something I regret to this day.

Michelle is human, not a monstrosity. It's only natural that someone who's half-asleep would scream in fright when faced with such a gruesome sight. Once my brain kicked into gear, I remembered Michelle and why I was in that bed. Overcome with guilt, I said, "Don't startle me, you know how horrifying your face can be." I slid my legs back under the blanket and lay next to Michelle, who was still in shock, gazing at me.

"I'm tired, let's sleep," I suggested, pulling her down to lie next to me. I covered her with the blanket and embraced her. Because I knew, she had been longing to fall asleep in my arms, and that's what had awakened me. "I'm a light sleeper, even the slightest movement can wake me," I whispered. I remember the look of shock in Michelle's eyes as she looked at me. I quickly closed my eyes, pretending to be sleepy, but in reality, I was simply too terrified to face her.

The next morning, I was the first to wake up. I found myself face-to-face with Michelle, her warm breath fanning my face. My body tensed, my instincts screaming at me to push her away. It took all my self-control to resist the urge. I was still afraid.

Taking a deep breath, I studied her closely. I traced the contours of her scarred face, wondering about the pain and suffering that must have led to those wounds. My heart went out to her. A minor cut was enough to make me wince; how unbearable must it have been to have her entire body covered in such wounds? I sighed, taking in the sight of her peaceful sleep.

Michelle was a warrior who had braved countless storms, endured unspeakable pain. I found a newfound respect for her. I shouldn't fear her. One of the principles I've always stood by when confronting fear is to face it head-on. Fear will never lead me anywhere, and as long as I harbour it, I will have to face it eventually.

If not now, when?

My hand reached out to touch Michelle's face, brushing across the scars that marked her skin, her scalp, her broken nose. Each touch was a silent tribute to the pain she had borne, the suffering she had endured. I wondered, did she cry out in pain as her facial bones shattered, did her skin burn with an unbearable heat as the wounds festered?

Did she spend countless nights in agony, unable to find the comfort of sleep?

Surely it must have been excruciating. As I looked at Michelle's peaceful sleep, I touched the rough texture of her cheeks, marked by old scars. Gently, I moved closer to her, planting soft kisses on her forehead, cheeks, nose, and chin. I found myself looking into Michelle's wide, clear eyes. Her beautiful blue eyes shone brightly, and she immediately reached out, hugging me tighter, resting her head on my chest.

"Michelle, I'm sorry for waking you," I whispered. She didn't respond. Instead, she cried silently, her tears soaking my shirt. All I could do was hold her closer, running my fingers through her hair, over the scars on her scalp. It felt like we had grown closer in that moment.

And from that day on, I never wanted to share a bed with her again, not even if it was just to sleep.

***

"Jaime!" Her voice echoed across the room, each syllable of my name resonating with a raw emotion that was hard to define. I watched as Michelle, the woman I had come to know so deeply, chewed thoughtfully on her egg.

"Do you know that you are the first and only person who still hugs me when I wake up?" Her voice was soft, tremulous, like a quiet confession on a Sunday morning. The vulnerability in her words stirred something deep within me.

A tender smile warmed my lips as I reached for a tissue, dabbing at the errant egg yolk that trickled down the corner of her mouth. "I find that hard to believe."

I looked around, overlooking the city's skyline, the apartment's balcony housed a small garden, Michelle's labor of love. Here, an array of succulents, ferns, and flowering plants added a touch of life to the otherwise stoic environment. The presence of a single garden chair and a small table bearing an empty coffee cup spoke volumes about the solitary mornings spent watching the city awake.

She paused, taking a deep breath as if she was gathering the strength to bare her soul. "Do you know I ever promise to myself that one day if I ever meet a guy who can accept me for who I am, I will marry him. I will give my everything to him."

"Really?" I found myself uttering, a strange sensation taking root in my chest. A blend of anticipation, surprise, and a profound connection that left my heart throbbing in a rhythm that mirrored the uncertainty of the moment.

Her gaze held mine as she recited a poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, each word infused with an emotion so profound that it felt as if my heart was echoing every beat of hers.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of being and ideal grace.

I love thee to the level of every day's

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

As the final words left her lips, I found myself breathless, my heart throbbing against my ribcage like a wild bird eager to break free. Yet, it was her next words that truly sent a shockwave through me.

"But, you are not the first. I already promised someone before you to give him my everything." Her gaze, previously filled with love and vulnerability, darkened, pain glinting in her eyes.

"Now, this is new." I managed to stammer out, feeling as if I had been plunged into a cold ocean. "Who is he?"

"My ex-team leader. Three years ago, I promised him to give my everything. Yet, he left me without saying anything." Tears welled up in her eyes, their crystal depths mirroring the anguish of her heart. "But when I meet him again, he had totally forgotten me. That heartless man, yet I still love him, deeply, till now. I tried to make him jealous, but he never looked at me like he used to."

"Every fiber of my being screams in protest, commanding me to dismiss his allure, to look away from those hypnotic eyes of his. Yet, I find myself ensnared, ensnared by his gaze, by the way he treats me, as if I were a delicate flower amidst a field of hardened stones. His charm, like an unyielding current, pulls me closer with each passing second. I've tried to escape, to swim against this ceaseless tide, but alas, my heart proves to be a traitor."

"He's become my compass, the magnetic north my heart keeps aligning with, relentlessly. It's a gnawing ache, a quiet longing that my heart refuses to abandon. The thought of him is woven into my very soul, his image imprinted onto my heart, his words echoing in my mind like a haunting melody."

"I find myself caught in this paradoxical whirl of emotions. My heart filled with such love for him, so potent, so profound, it scares me. It's a love so deep it feels as if I'm falling into an abyss, an abyss I want to climb out of but also willingly dive deeper into. I detest this tug of war within me, this battle between the love I feel and the urge to forget him. And yet, I adore him with a fervor that borders on madness. A fervor so intense, I yearn to forget him just as fiercely as I yearn to remember every nuance, every shade of our shared moments."

"In every beat of my heart, in every whisper of my soul, I find him. His presence a constant reminder of a love so bittersweet, so painfully beautiful. I hate it, this torment of love, yet I cherish him with every breath, every sigh, every tear. I find myself entrapped in a labyrinth of emotions, where every path leads back to him."

The sight of her, broken yet bravely bearing her heart, was enough to shatter the barriers around mine. I moved closer, pulling her into a comforting embrace.

"When he vanished, vanished without a whisper, without a trace, I was shattered. I watched as my world, my entire universe, crumbled to dust around me. I found myself gasping for breath, suffocating under the weight of his absence. My existence felt vacant, devoid of life, devoid of meaning. I was adrift in a sea of despair, caught in a tempest of grief and pain. I knew I was reduced to a pitiful being, pleading for a love that had turned its back on me. When he chose to erase me, I broke...I broke into a million pieces."

"But then, like a beacon of hope in the gloom, I found you. I found solace in your presence, in your understanding, in your love. I made a solemn vow, a promise to myself, to him and to you. I vowed to learn how to endure without him, to find the strength within to exist without your shadow too. I pledged to rise, to grow into a formidable woman who could thrive on her own. A woman who would never grovel for love, never plead for attention."

"But for now, I need you. I need you to envelop me in your love, to cradle me in your care. Shower me with warmth and light, for the darkness lurking within my heart is too overwhelming for me to confront alone. Stand by me, be my lighthouse guiding me through this storm. Despite the facade I project, I am not the titan you perceive me to be. Beneath the veneer, I am a solitary woman, vulnerable and frail."

"Promise me, Jaime, don't you dare abandon me! My heart, already fractured once, cannot bear another catastrophe. I am not as invincible as I may appear. This time, the blow might be fatal. I may truly perish, not just metaphorically, but in the stark reality of life and death. Hold me close, Jaime, and promise me, promise me that you'll never let me go."

"If there ever comes a day when you must part from me, I beg of you, tell me with kindness. Allow me time to brace myself for the inevitable, to gather the shards of my heart together, to prepare for the storm that is to come."

"I will never leave you," I assured her, my voice filled with an intensity that reflected the sincerity of my words.

Then, shifting gears as if to escape from the raw emotion of the moment, Michelle, with a teasing glint in her eye, hastily stuffed the remaining food into her mouth. She stood abruptly and moved toward the room.

"Michelle, eat calmly," I protested. Yet, her muffled response came from the room, her mouth still full, "Just a moment."

Suddenly, I felt a grasp on my wrist, my attention diverted from the abandoned plates on the table. My hand was pressed against something cold and sleek, Michelle's voice a soothing whisper, "Relax." Before me lay the coveted LXX smartphone, my fingertips recognized by its advanced biometric system.

"But, Michelle," I tried to protest, to convey my unease about accepting such a generous gift. Yet, she cut me off with a radiant smile and a revelation that left me speechless.

"Jaime, do you know that actually that LXX smartphone was a gift for you from the start," she confessed, her voice soft and shy.

In that moment, with Michelle's earnest words and her gift in my hands, I felt the world slow down. I saw the love in her eyes, the raw honesty of her emotions, and the courage in her heart. I realized then that love was not just a series of grand gestures, but also these quiet moments of profound connection, of accepting someone for who they truly are, and of promises made and kept.