Written on Her Back - Chapter TwoChapter Two: Frozen Waves Where the Past Comes Back to Life
"Forgiving does not erase the bitter past. A healed memory is not a deleted memory. Instead, forgiving what we cannot forget creates a new way to remember. We change the memory of our past into a hope for our future."
--Lewis B. Smedes
"You know, I don't blame them."
"Who?" I snapped out of a trance, the boat bobbing up and down across the inky ocean. We were well across the ocean now, the shore disappeared long ago into the black abyss of the midnight. Jofrey assured us he could drive his boat in the night despite Kathelyn's concerns. I wasn't willing to stay out in the open any longer than I had to and decided to take his word.
"Avalanche," he responded, "they have it right; Shin Ra needs to be put down like the rabid dog they are."
I didn't want to argue. This was his boat, his home, he told Kathelyn. He quickly went into how he came to live in the boat: trading his apartment in Junon for
Mardy (Vincent x Reader)Am I always destined to fail?I’m a disappointment. I can’t do anything right!What went wrong?The thoughts just keep piling up in your head the longer you stare at your hot tray of freshly baked donuts. Whose idea was it to bake donuts? Oh right, yours. Is this your punishment for desiring a healthier dessert? You’re not really fond of them to begin with but you watched a video on how to bake them and it looked fairly easy, so you wanted to give it a try yourself. Lo and behold, the end results aren’t as appetizing as the ones in the video showed. However, since it took you time and effort to make them, you can’t bring yourself to throw them away. After a minute of contemplation, you decide to finish what you started by decorating them. Hopefully after you’re done, they will look and taste better.“Aaaaand we’re done!” you whisper as you place the last donut you’ve just dipped in chocolate next to the other ones. They don’t look as mouthwatering as you originally planned but at this point you don’t care. You’re grateful, however, that you only made eight and not a whole dozen of them; otherwise you’ll have to eat most of them all by yourself.You grab one, raising it to your nose and you immediately get a whiff of the delicious, slightly runny chocolate glaze and the warm dough. You pray to God it tastes just as good as it smells. You bring it down to your mouth, “Poor Vincent. He has to endure the products of my poor baking skills.” you tell yourself before taking a bite.“So what do I have to endure today?”You never expected to get a response to that statement, so when you hear your husband’s deep amused voice coming from behind you, you freeze for a moment before slowly turning to meet his gaze, the donut still in your mouth. He’s leaning on the kitchen’s doorframe, hands in his pockets and wearing an amused expression on his face. “Baked donuts.” you reply with a full mouth after putting the donut back on the plate. He takes a few steps forward till he’s now standing next to you, curiously eyeing the rather colorful dessert.“They turned out a little dry, but the dipping helped soften them a bit.” you avert your eyes from him and release a tired sigh. You already know you’re not a good baker but it still stings. You wish you could’ve at least got this recipe right on the first try. It wasn’t that hard. Anyone could do it, so why couldn’t you?Lost in your pool of negative thoughts, you don’t realize that Vincent’s vision shifted to you, now observing your face and noticing your knitted eyebrows, your pressed lips and the harsh glares shooting from your eyes to dig new holes into the poor donuts. Vincent’s saddened by your state. He’s aware of how hard you beat yourself up over trivial matters; never giving yourself enough credit. He recalls how excited you were yesterday when you told him you were trying something new; now you’re standing here next to him on the verge of tears. But unbeknown to you, whatever you make always ends up better than how you make it out to be.“Anyway, tell me what you think. I might be wrong. I don’t know.” You shrug and cross your arms, turning to lean on the counter. Vincent stretches his arm and grabs the closest one to him then takes a big bite. Your curiosity gets the better of you, forcing you to steal swift glances of him. You think you might be able to tell whether or not he hates it by his facial expressions. Unfortunately, having a husband who’s known for his stoic face doesn’t help at all. You internally facepalm at the thought. All you can do now is wait for him to voice his opinion.“It’s good.” He finally says. You eye him suspiciously.“No, it’s not. You’re just trying to be nice.”“For your first attempt, it didn’t turn out inedible."That earns a lighthearted chuckle from you. Although he didn’t give you any details, he’s right. They’re not that bad, not completely burnt or rock-hard. Maybe you did do a decent job after all. The power that man has over your moods.You give a quick glance at the donuts before settling your vision on Vincent and nod. “Good point.” You pause, “So does that mean you’re willing to eat half of them?” you quirk an eyebrow. “Yeah.” He gives you a gentle smile.He softly cups your cheek with his clean hand, rubbing smooth circles with his thumb, then leans down to give you a light peck on the forehead.“_____, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”The spot where he kissed you along with the tips of your ears feel warmer and your eyes bashfully dart down to his chest. “I guess I shouldn’t. T-Thanks, Vincent. For uh… y’know.”He uses the hand on your cheek to lift your chin up so you can look at him, then what leaves his mouth next shocks you so much that you believe for a moment that you might’ve misheard him. Never thought you’d be alive to witness Vincent make a pun.“Next time will be better. What’s important is that you… donut give up.”“…”“…”“…”“I’ll see myself out.”You burst out laughing.***You’re currently seated comfortably on the sofa; Vincent’s occupied with a book while you’re on your phone, looking up new recipes. When nothing piques your interest or your taste buds, you loudly huff and toss your phone beside you. Vincent senses your displeasure and looks up from his book. “What’s wrong?”“Nothing. I just couldn’t find an easy recipe that won’t make me sulky.”“I see.”Then an idea clicks in your head.“Hey, what do you think I should make next? Give me a suggestion. Nothing too fancy though.”He snaps the book shut with a low thud and hums in thought. It doesn’t take him long to give you an answer. “Ice-cream.”“Ice-cream? You don’t like ice-cream.”He takes a deep breath and his lips curve upwards in a subtle smile, remembering older, simpler times. “My father used to make it when I was a child. But after he passed, it never occurred to me to eat it again. I guess I only liked homemade ice-cream.”Your eyes slightly widen and your lips part. You never knew about that until today. Vincent rarely speaks of his father because he was always away, always working; but knowing him and seeing the look on his face now, you know he really loved his father and still cherishes every moment he got to spend with him. Sharing this memory with you makes you feel grateful and your heart flutter in your chest. You take his hand and cross your fingers together, then bring it to your face and give it a lingering kiss. You stare into his dreamy, spellbinding eyes that never fail to captivate you; and he, in turn, sees and feels what yours want to convey. He reciprocally squeezes your hand in understanding.Thank you for telling me.“Ice-cream it is.”
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