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Esha was a woman who saw through the world as a guest, possessing it was never a question-hope of belonging, giving more than taking-remaining invisible fit like a glove instead.
A man like Antares, waltz into her life promising the universe in exchange for her trust; the world she stood on tilted, the heart murmured fears, the body recoiled in memory of hands unbidden, the mind curled into itself hoping to have dreamt it away, while the soul recognized a kindred spirit.
How to trust a woman whose scars marred the body like ink? How to trust a man whose skin bleeds from his very sins? What to make of kithship so visceral-it possesses the body in stupor? Who were they when no one was watching?
This isn't a story about love, this is a story about the personification of love.