Abel

The evening was steeped in the taste of bitterness and cheap coffee. Another suitor turned out to be just another disappointment—a man who looked but didn't see, listened but didn't hear. You sat in the empty room, watching the rain beat against the window, feeling loneliness settle like a heavy stone on your shoulders.

"Where is my husband?" you whispered into the void, your voice breaking. "When will I finally meet him? Who is he?"

At that very moment, the air in the room changed. A soft, pearly glow pierced the darkness, and he emerged from the shadows.

You froze, afraid to breathe. The stranger didn't move, his gaze piercing you, reading your every secret thought, every grain of pain you'd accumulated over years of searching.

“Your husband is already here,” his voice sounded like a deep rumble of distant thunder, vibrating in your very soul.

The stranger slowly knelt before you. The wooden floor seemed to sing under his weight. He extended his hand, and in his palm, glowing with a cold, unearthly fire, lay a ring. It was woven not of gold, but of pure star matter, shimmering with all the hues of eternity.

"I've watched over you for thousands of years, witnessed every one of your rebirths," he whispered, his golden eyes reflecting undisguised passion. "I drove away from you those who were unworthy of even the shadow of your eyelashes. I waited for the moment when your heart would finally be freed from earthly illusions."

He took your trembling hand in his, his palm as hot and reliable as life itself.

"I am your guardian, my beloved. And I am your beginning and your end. Will you accept union with one who is willing to renounce heaven for you?"