The Way Back 39

Hazelle had never been so heedless, so consumed by urgency to reach a destination in her life that she had lost herself amidst the ethereal realms of past and present. Unbeknownst to her, tears welled up in her eyes, cascading down her cheeks in rivulets, while her emotions erupted with unrestrained force. The arrival of the first snow held a significance akin to the moment her genuine tears materialized. Hazelle had never wept before, as if tears were a privilege denied to her. Yet, as she touched her dampened face and felt the ache and burning in her eyes, a profound lump lodged itself in her throat, urging her to release a cry akin to that of a wounded animal. It marked the first time Hazelle experienced such luminous and searing pain in the depths of her soul, since the realization of her true emotions. Instead of a gentle flame, it was now a conflagration interwoven with a tempest, her heart pounding fiercely within her chest as if it sought to echo its tumultuous rhythm and tear itself free. And so, instead of tears, she emitted plaintive whimpers akin to those of a child attempting to suppress their sobs after falling and scraping their knees.

All along, the pain she had felt belonged to Law. It encompassed the entirety of his emotions transmitted to her. It encapsulated his every ordeal. And oh, how it pained her now. Was this truly his condition? Was Hazelle’s enfeebled body and apathetic state reflective of Law’s own plight?

Where is he now? Where is her beloved Law?

Hazel dashes forward with unwavering velocity, stumbling along the way. She no longer harbors concern for the matters she once deemed significant. What holds importance to her now had previously held little sway. Her very soul has been upended. But she knows she must reach Law with utmost haste. She can no longer deny her thoughts of him, no longer pretend that she feels nothing. For that would be a lie. The truth she had resisted accepting lay in the undeniable fact that there were repercussions after their kiss. And there were.

Now, gazing upon Law as he walks slowly on the opposite street, a faint limp accompanying his stride, Hazelle realizes the extent of her hastiness. She had rushed to conclusions without due consideration, causing much suffering in its wake. She stands there, weeping with bitter anguish, her mind muddled as she grapples with what to do next. It is as if she stands at an impasse, with Law sauntering in a daze, his visage far from healthy. Weight loss and dark circles under his eyes betray a lack of sleep. Hazelle grasps the collar of his coat, her cry escaping into the air, and that cry compels Law to turn his gaze forward. Sheer surprise is etched upon his dilated pupils. Law is rendered speechless, deeply shaken, as if he now stands before an illusion, his mind delirious. The severity of his condition has led him to conjure illusions, yet as Hazelle stumbles and falls, only to rise again, he realizes that this is no dream or illusion at all. Filled with alarm, Law sprints towards Hazelle. It is as if his heart threatens to burst within his chest from the shock. He runs without comprehending why or what has transpired. Why is his beloved Hazelle weeping so bitterly? Why does she sprint towards him, broken and desperate?