Within all of its misfortunes, stood Douma with one of his cult members. His cult was long running, it brought the miserable a life of paradise and promise of new changes. You’re always the idiot, he thought. His feelings were only mirrored of yours, it was never bounded love to begin with. A cultural marriage equality brought a peace and reunion between both your clans.

Why had you been so shocked when you open the door to find him holding a nobody?

Douma sways the woman around, smaller in his arms and holding her delicate frame. It’s like a gunshot to the chest, and thus began the heat of rage to your cheeks. You weren’t aware of his sly grin as he noticed you at the creak of the door. The rainbow color of his eyes fueled with a rhythm of yearning your reaction.

His arms remove the circle they shaped around the women he cradled, his back turns and his face greets you. Theres a lack of guilt in his expression, lack of pity for the twisted look your face gave.