Chapter 48: (Aaira's pov)

Jungkook's eyes were locked onto mine through the mirror, with an intensity that made me feel exposed. I struggled to meet his gaze, my own eyes cast downward as if ashamed to face the weight of my own emotions. He made me turn to look at him, as I sat face to face with him, I still kept my face downward. Jungkook gently cupped my face in his hands, his touch warm against my cold skin.

Jungkook: My Love, look at me.

He guided me to face him fully. The movement was slow, deliberate, as if he were afraid to push me too hard. Yet, his voice was soft, yet firm, compelling me to meet his eyes. I hesitated for a moment, my sorrow was making it difficult to lift my gaze. When I finally looked up, his eyes met mine.

Jungkook: You don't have to look down, your eyes should meet mine.

His words, though simple, were filled with profound meaning. I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to respond. My eyes, still glistening with tears, reflected the depth of my pain.

Jungkook's hands moved gently to cradle my face, his fingers brushing away the tears that had escaped my eyes. His touch was both comforting and electrifying, as if he was trying to reach into the very core of my being and offer solace.

As he leaned in, his lips brushed against mine in a kiss that was both tender and full of emotion. The connection between us was more than just physical; it was an exchange of our shared grief, our love, and our unspoken promises. I closed my eyes, allowing the tears to fall freely as the kiss deepened. The warmth of his lips, the raw pain I felt inside.

In those little moments I realised, how we have got permission from divinity, we have got safety, security in each other. All the time, he's only mine, nothing else actually is mine without him. We both are two bodies and one life, never be separated from me.

We stayed in that kiss for what felt like an eternity, the world outside fading away as we were lost in each other. When Jungkook finally pulled away, his breath mingled with mine, both of us panting slightly from the intensity of the moment. His eyes searched mine.

Jungkook: I'll give you a ride to the old house.

His offer was met with a nod from me, a small sign of my acceptance. The thought of leaving the comfort of our home, even for a brief while, was daunting, but his presence made the idea a bit more bearable. Jungkook gave a soft smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, and motioned towards the door.

He called for the driver to prepare the carriage, I watched as he made the arrangements. The carriage was soon ready, and Jungkook helped me into it with a gentle hand. His touch was soft as he assisted me up the steps, his eyes never leaving mine.

Once we were settled inside, he took his place beside me. The ride to the old house was quiet, the clatter of the carriage wheels on the cobblestone streets the only sound breaking the silence. Jungkook sat close to me, his hand resting lightly on mine. Every now and then, he would glance at me with a look of quiet concern.

We are so complete together, that there is nothing that is lacking, however much I have to live, I want to live with him only, whatever way we live, it's for him only. He keeps travelling within me, keep passing with every breath.

We have fulfilled all the needs that are there for life, the intoxication that it is, it should remain, just the way it is, forever, and ever. Whatever this thing that has happened through us, it's love.

As the carriage rolled steadily through the crowded streets, Jungkook shifted closer to me. I felt his head gently resting on my shoulder, his breaths uneven as if he was struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. I could sense his internal battles, the strength he wore so valiantly, and the vulnerability that lay just beneath it.

I carefully raised my hand to his cheek, brushing away the tears that had managed to escape his eyes. My touch was gentle, offering him the solace that I knew he needed.

Jungkook's hand found mine, and he clutched it with a grip that spoke of his need for reassurance. I rested my head against his. The carriage continued its journey, but for us, time seemed to stand still in that intimate moment of shared sorrow.

I stroked his hair softly, each touch conveying my support and love. It was in this shared silence that I felt our connection deepen.

Jungkook: Why do I have a feeling something bad might happen today ?

I shook my head slightly.

Jungkook: Is it necessary to go ?

I nodded my head, slowly.

Aaira: Nothing will happen to me.

Jungkook's voice quivered as he spoke, the vulnerability in his tone palpable.

Jungkook: Don't leave me today, Aaira. I have a bad feeling.

As he said this, more tears began to stream down his face. His emotions were raw, and seeing him like this caused my own tears to flow even more freely. I gave him a soft smile, though it was difficult to maintain composure in the face of his distress.

Aaira: Don't make me weak, Jungkook.

His grip on my hands tightened, refusing to let go. His eyes, brimming with tears, locked onto mine with a pleading intensity.

Jungkook: Please don't go. I don't feel good.

I reached up to gently wipe the tears from his cheeks, trying to soothe him despite the turmoil in my own heart.

Aaira: Don't worry, nothing will happen to me. I'll be safe.

I leaned in and placed tender kisses on both of his eyelids, a gesture meant to offer comfort and reassurance. His tears mixed with my lips, his eyes fluttered closed as he savored the touch, his breathing slowly as he found a moment of peace in my presence.

I held him close, my own heart aching for him, as the carriage drew nearer to the old house, I whispered softly, my voice steady and full of resolve.

Aaira: We'll face whatever comes together. I'm not going anywhere without you.

The carriage came to a halt in front of the imposing old mansion, its grandeur shadowed by the window of the carriage. The mansion, with its towering façade and darkened windows, seemed to loom over us.

Jungkook's gaze met mine with a final, searching look. He seemed to be silently asking if my decision had changed, if perhaps the weight of his fears had swayed my decision. But my heart was set. With a resigned sign, Jungkook stepped out of the carriage first.

He extended his hand to me with a grace that spoke of both past and present. It was a gesture that instantly took me back to our wedding night, when he had helped me out of the carriage for the first time.

I placed my hand in his, feeling the familiar warmth and strength of his grip. As I stepped out of the carriage, he leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on my hand.

Jungkook: I love you.

His voice was steady, yet the words carried an emotional weight that transcended the simple declaration. I looked up at him, my own emotions mirrored in his eyes.

Aaira: I love you too.

He shook his head slightly, a sad smile touching his lips.

Jungkook: I don't say 'I love you' to hear it back. I say it to let you know that I love you so much.

His confession was deeply moving, revealing the depth of his feelings in a way that words alone could not fully capture. I could see the sincerity in his eyes, a reflection of his heart laid bare before me.

With a small, appreciative smile, I reached up to cup his face gently. My thumb brushed away a stray tear that had escaped his eye, and I looked into his eyes with sorrow and gratitude.

Aaira: And I don't say 'I love you too' Just to reply back, I say it to let you know that I love you too.

His eyes softened further, and with a nod of acceptance, he took my hand in his. He led me towards the old door, his grip firm but gentle. The door loomed ahead, its dark wood and iron. As we approached, Jungkook turned to me once more, his expression pleading.

Jungkook: Please let me stay, Aaira. I have a bad feeling.

I shook my head.

Aaira: I'll be alright, just trust me with this.

He scrunched his nose, with a mix of frustration and worry on his face. The concern in his eyes was visible, but I needed him to trust me. He stepped closer, connecting our lips in a tender, lingering kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes were filled with a mixture of love and reluctance.

Jungkook: Please take care. I love you so much.

I mouthed back, my heart aching with the intensity of our farewell.

Aaira: I love you too.

His smile was faint but sincere, and he repeated his plea.

Jungkook: I need your words.

I took a deep breath and, with as much strength as I could muster, spoke louder this time.

Aaira: I love you too.

The words echoed in the cold, empty space around us. Jungkook's smile grew as he absorbed my declaration. He planted a kiss on both my eyelids, as i slowly closed them. He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine as he finally stepped back.

The world seemed too narrow to just the two of us in that moment, a silent understanding passing between us. With one last lingering look, he turned and walked away towards the carriage, as he finally stepped in it. He gave me one last, lingering glance before the door began to close. I could see the unease etched on his face.

Even as the carriage door shut, Jungkook continued to peer through the window, his gaze fixed on me as the carriage slowly pulled away. I returned his look with a painful smile, trying to mask my insides. His persistent worry had seeped into my own heart, and now, a sense of foreboding settled over me.

The carriage rolled away, the rhythmic clatter of its wheels on the cobblestone fading into the distance. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but the lingering unease made it hard to feel at ease. The mansion loomed before me, its dark, weathered facade more imposing than ever.

I turned towards the mansion and approached the entrance. The grand door creaked open as I pushed it, revealing the dimly lit interior of the old house. As I stepped inside, the air was thick with the musty scent of disuse and old secrets.

The grand hall stretched out before me, its once opulent decor now faded and worn. The silence was almost oppressive, broken only by the faint echo of my footsteps. I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. Its once majestic beauty now faded under layers of time and neglect.

The room was vast, with high ceilings that seemed to reach towards eternity. Heavy wooden beams crisscrossed overhead, their dark stain only slightly dulled by years of dust and age. The walls, lined with tall, intricately carved wooden panels, had lost much of their former grandeur.

The elaborate moldings and wainscoting, once polished to a brilliant sheen, were now coated with a thick layer of grime, making the wood appear darker and more somber. Hanging from the ceiling were enormous, ornate chandeliers, their crystal pendants were now dull and encrusted.

The floor was a broad expanse of dark, polished wood, now scuffed and marred by countless footsteps. The once-lustrous surface was dulled by layers of dust. Large, plush rugs that had once adorned the space were now rolled up and stored in a corner, their rich colors faded to a dull, lifeless hue.

There were several grand armchairs, their fabric once luxurious but now threadbare and stained. A long dining table, with intricate carvings on its legs and edges, stood in the center of the room.

Surrounding the table were high-backed chairs, each one holding its own story of countless meals and conversations. On one side of the room stood a grand fireplace, its large marble surround darkened and cracked from years of use.

The hearth was cold and empty, its blackened grate a somber reminder of the many winters spent within these walls. The mantle above was adorned with several brass candlesticks, tarnished and dusty.

This place had been a sanctuary for me during my childhood, a refuge from the world where I could find solace. It felt strange to see it in such disrepair, yet there was comfort in its familiarity. I knew that lighting a few candles would bring back some of the warmth and light that had long since faded from this grand old house.

I picked up a slender wax candle from the mantle, its white surface slightly chipped and yellowed with age. The candlestick, a delicate piece of brass with intricate designs, seemed almost to beckon me to restore it to its former glory.

I set the candle into the holder and turned to find a box of matches in a nearby drawer. I struck a match against the rough striking surface, the sulfurous smell briefly stinging my nostrils. The match flared to life, its small flame flickering uncertainly at first.

I held it to the wick of the candle, watching with satisfaction as the wick caught fire and began to glow. The candle's light was soft and warm, its golden flame casting dancing shadows across the room.

As the candlelight spread, the darkness of the room began to lift. I moved around the room, lighting more candles and bringing light into every darkened corner. Each flicker of flame making the mansion feels less like a ghostly shell and more like a place where memories could once again breathe.

As I worked, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia. This house, despite its current state of disrepair, held so many memories-both happy and sad. It was a place where I had found refuge and solace, and as the candles illuminated the grand hall, I felt again that the house was still a part of me, it seemed to come back to life, if only a little.

I moved towards the grand staircase, my footsteps echoing softly on the worn wooden steps. The staircase was lined with a richly woven carpet, its once vibrant patterns now faded and threadbare. The grand banister, carved with intricate designs, felt smooth beneath my hand as I ascended.

When I reached the first floor, I headed towards my room, a space that held a special place in my heart. The door creaked slightly as I opened it, revealing the room beyond. My father's private property, this room had always been off-limits to anyone outside our immediate family. Even my uncle had never had access to this palace of mine.

The room was covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. I could see the outline of the furniture beneath the sheets that had been draped over them. I started pulling away the sheets from the furniture, revealing the large, ornate bed that had been the centerpiece of the room.

I uncovered the grand dresser with its gilded mirror, the once-reflective surface now clouded with age. As I moved about the room, uncovering the once-loved furniture, a wave of nostalgia washed over me.

I glanced around, taking in the details: the heavy drapes that framed the windows, their rich fabric; the ornate rugs that once covered the floor, now rolled up and stored away; and the delicate porcelain figurines that decorated the shelves, each one holding a memory from the past.

I lay down on the bed, the dust settling around me. The bed, though a bit musty, still felt like home. The soft rustle of the sheets beneath me was comforting, and I closed my eyes, I had always wanted to bring Aimin here, to share this piece of my past with him. But fate had not given us that chance.

Memories of Jungkook and me visiting this mansion surfaced. We had once walked these very halls together, exploring its grandeur and debating its merits. That visit ended in an argument. I quickly opened my eyes, I moved towards the dresser.

Sitting down on the stool in front of the dresser, I opened the top drawer. As the drawer slid open, a scattering of small items spilled out, which was a very familiar sight. My little comb, clips, and hairpins, once neatly organized, were now jumbled together in a forgotten heap. I picked up the comb and clips, a gentle smile crossing my face as memories of simpler times flooded back.

I began to comb my hair, the brush smoothing through the strands. Each stroke of the brush felt like a gesture of care, I paused, feeling a tickle in my throat that was unexpected. It was as if the dust in the room was reacting to my presence.

I coughed again, more sharply this time, and took a moment to gather myself. The house was cloaked in silence, I couldn't quite grasp why I was here today, or what the purpose of this visit was, but something had drawn me back to this place. I looked around the room, I couldn't fully understand. I had come here seeking something, though I wasn't sure what that was.

As I held the comb in my hand, I could almost feel my mother's presence, her hands gripping the comb as she worked through my hair with a firmness that bordered on harshness. The comb seemed heavy in my hand, almost instinctive motion, I threw the comb back onto the dresser, its clatter breaking the stillness of the room.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing thoughts in my mind. I reminded myself that my mother was not here, that those days were behind me. I took a moment to steady myself, closing my eyes and drawing in a deep, steadying breath.

The comb and clips lay scattered, I picked up the clips and comb and placed them back into the drawer, closing it gently. The drawer clicked shut, I closed my eyes for more brief moments.

***

As the hours passed, I immersed myself in cleaning the room. I dusted off the surfaces, removed the cobwebs from the corners, replacing another bedsheet after dusting it. The room began to feel like a refuge again. As I worked diligently, losing track of time. It wasn't until I caught a glimpse of the fading light through the windows that I realized it was already evening.

With a sigh, I decided to open the door to the balcony to let in the fresh evening air. The door creaked and groaned as I pushed it open, a sound that seemed to echo through the quiet house. I stepped out onto the balcony, letting the cool breeze wash over me, momentarily easing the tension I felt.

Suddenly, a loud noise shattered the silence, coming from downstairs. It sounded like something heavy had fallen. My heart skipped a beat, and I turned toward the staircase, ready to investigate. But before I could take a step, I saw a flash of movement outside, a cat darting across the yard.

I paused, I realized the source of the noise. It must have been the cat that had caused the disturbance, perhaps knocking over a vase or some other trinket. The thought of a stray cat getting into the house and causing a minor mess was far less alarming than what I had initially feared.

I decided to ignore the noise downstairs, convincing myself that the disturbance was minor and that I could address it later. Instead, I turned my attention to my parents' room. As I made my way down the hallway.

Entering their room, I was immediately struck by the contrast between this space and mine. It was larger and more elegant, though it, too, had fallen into disrepair. Dust had settled on the antique furniture, and the once-grand drapes hung heavy with age.

I set about cleaning the room with the same diligence I had applied to my own. I dusted off the surfaces, and even straightened the bed linens. After finishing, I found myself drawn to my mother's dresser. It stood against the wall like a sentinel of the past, its surface covered with a layer of dust.

I carefully opened the drawers, revealing a collection of her accessories-ornate brooches, delicate necklaces, and elegant hats. One particular piece caught my eye: a finely crafted tiara that seemed to capture the light with its intricate detailing.

I picked it up gently, admiring its craftsmanship. Placing it on my head, I tried to imagine how my mother must have looked wearing it. I straightened my back, adjusting the tiara as if assuming her royal posture. For a fleeting moment, I felt a connection to her, a link to the grace and elegance she had embodied.

Standing there in the dim light of the room, I felt as though I was channeling a part of her, reliving a fragment of her life. The accessories, though old and slightly tarnished, looked still as pretty as it looked my mother's forehead.

I felt as though I was channeling a part of her, reliving a fragment of her life. The accessories, though old and slightly tarnished, still held a beauty that had once adorned my mother's presence.

I moved to the mirror, still wearing the tiara, and found myself compelled to mimic my mother's voice. I took a deep breath, adopting a haughty British accent as I began to address my reflection.

Aaira: Look at you.

I started, trying to capture the sharpness of her tone.

Aaira: Do you see what a disgrace you've become? A stain on the family's dignity, no less. How could you fail your own husband and your family? You can't be my daughter.

I lifted my chin, trying to mimic the way she used to stand with an air of superiority.

Aaira: You were always such a disappointment. It's astonishing how someone of your lowly caliber could ever think to match the grace and stature of your mother.

I paused, with a sigh, I took off the tiara and placed it gently back on the dresser. I knew that no amount of mimicry could bridge the gap between us. I gave one last look at my reflection before turning away. A sharp, acrid smell filled the air-like something burning.

My heart raced as my eyes widened in alarm. I hurried to the staircase, my steps quick and unsteady. When I reached the top of the stairs and looked down, a horrible scene unfolded in front of my eyes. Flames were flickering and curling around the furniture downstairs, their glow casting eerie shadows on the walls.

Panic surged through me as I realized the fire had spread, consuming parts of the old mansion. The once-familiar grandeur was now engulfed in a devastating blaze, and I knew I had to act quickly to escape the encroaching danger.

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"His warnings were always spot on; now, facing danger once more, I can only wish I had listened, I'm left scrambling for an exit that seems to slip further away."

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