Let's write with me - The Secret Desire

Chapter Five

In the unpredictable weather of the notorious city of Kuala Lumpur, a million cubic feet of water driblets fell freely like buckets of silvery nails, conquering the centre stage and ruthlessly pouring the watery torrent, flooding a part of the city.

Amid the palatial and tempestuous downpour, two sets of bleeding hearts, in their animalistic instincts' yearning, performed their usual sudorific sport. Drenched in sweet, sticky, lusty sweat, they danced, guided by the thirst of their hearty carnality, entangled in a performance of their lifetime.

Unleashing their ardour, igniting a fiery flame. They unabashedly surrendered to passion's intoxicating potion, challenging the vehement rumbles of the skies with their strings of oohhs and aahhs.

The beaming flick of yellow light from the lightning strike, swiftly captured her amorous roars and beautifully arched back, claiming the peak of her satisfaction before she fell back.

The loud clap of thunder sounded like a perfect grandstanding ovation. She knew she nailed it, for Ameer immediately flopped like a dirty rug on her body.

It was intense. It had always been intense, regardless of how many times they participated. They were almost magnetic, and every time, both of them would heartily devour each other and force themselves to thirst for more as they set their way apart.

You are trying but still Sometimes, she wondered if she passionately made love to him so she could keep him for a little longer.

Or the other way around.

"Gimme an hour, perhaps?" He sighed and shifted his weight to the side to lie down for a quick nap, like always.

"Sure," he said, but he didn't seem to try to embrace or carry a conversation with her, and oddly, she didn't seem to mind, unlike how she would aggressively react and get upset if her partner failed to shower her with affection.

Ever since she divorced, she barely felt offended by someone's actions towards her. Indeed, she greatly appreciated having a little space. It was as if a shield had been etched around her deeply wounded heart, protecting her from the arrows of futile offence.

Even though, deep down, she knew she was not living according to her truths, as ruthless as it seemed, she knew sometimes you have to give up your best traits and become the person you always despise so no one can ever hurt you again.

❧

Kemboja trailed her eyes on him as he was getting ready and wondered if she could break the invincible wall they had between them. Unabashedly, she wanted him—she desperately desired him—raw and unapologetically desired to delve into his depths.

Then, just like an impulse, she remembered, she also built a wall in front of her, barricading herself with this block of concrete, layers upon layers, so neither of them could hurt each other.

"How is your life?" He asked, as if he were concerned, whether she was living her life or not. For a moment, she contemplated herself before answering.

"I try to write...," she spoke in hushed tones, almost as if she didn't want him to hear what she was saying. It is not that she didn't want him to know, but she was afraid that she would tell the wrong person. That would be devastating for her.

She stood there, her heart pounding in her chest, as she weighed the consequences of her words. Her mind burst with ribbons of possibilities, click-glittery-clack with strings of thoughts she refused to process. She was overly cautious not to write and read another tale of betrayal and misplaced trust in this very chapter of her life. And, of course, all the other chapters ahead of her.

"Sorry... come again?" he puffed out his cigarette's smoke and let his nonchalant eyes linger on her.

UGH!

It was frustrating when he sounded so gallant with his words, a proven trait that, indeed, he had been brought up well by his mother. But, behind that facade, she could sense a veil of secrecy, a shield guarding his true emotions.

"Where are you going?"

She looked at him with a pause.

"Where are you going to take me?" Playfully, she asked, even though she knew he wouldn't take her anywhere she desired. Where could he possibly take her when he was in wedlock with someone else? It was too risky, and neither wanted to put their relationship at the forefront of public attention.

A frown slowly appeared on his face. She had guessed it, and now an essence of regret seeped into her vein like a bitter potion, blurring her consciousness. She should have tied her tongue and saved herself from a slit in her pride.

Just as he slipped into his black shirt, he walked up to the bed where she sat, looking deeply apologetic.

"You—know..."

You shouldn't have asked—"I know, and that's okay." She didn't want to create any unnecessary strain on their relationship.

Quickly, she added, "I'll be meeting a friend after. Don't worry," she assured him. However, those words hung in the air with no sense of direction.

"This friend of yours, a—," he paused, weighing his next words.

She knew he felt the same. Was it fair to even ask such a question or react to certain matters where neither could give their full commitment to each other?

They both were overly cautious with their moves and, sadly enough, even with their hearts. Both of them had learned, through the trials and tribulations of life, the bitter taste of disappointment and heartache. Their pasts had deeply scarred their souls, leaving them wary and guarded.

Regardless of their melancholic reality, the need for each other's company is returned by their commitment to keeping the relationship's secrecy so they can at least see each other.

"I'm going..."

"Sure. See you soon."

As usual, he kissed her temple and left. She would then question herself about whether their relationship was worth fighting for. Was it possible that their encounter was nothing more than two souls that were lost, got tangled in between, and were waiting for their ties to unravel so they were free to roam again?