As a sliver on sunshine rays in from the window, cascading down onto her face, Cleo wakes up with a groan. She stretches her limbs and tightens her muscles, feeling just the slightest bit refreshed from her somewhat peaceful slumber. She sits up and opens her eyes to be met with an empty room. Her heart sinks down into her chest, her skin crawling as she sits alone in the room. Her legs swing off of the bed, her feet making contact with the cool floor. She chews on the skin of her inner cheeks as her mind tries to rationalize the empty room without jumping to conclusions.

That's a burden she's always had to bare. She wants to be rational and reasonable, but her emotions and overworked mind tend to get the best of her.

The door opens and her head snaps in that direction to see Marc walking through with full hands, and she lets out a deep breath. He walks up to her, but doesn't hand her anything. Instead, he sets down a cup of coffee and a bagel down on the bedside table to her left side. He pulls back, but her eyes follow him as her mouths forms a temporary smile.

" Your aunt talks a lot," Marc states, " Coffee might be cold."

" That's fine... thank you," She says as she takes the coffee in her hands, " But, she's not my aunt."

With that, Marc turns around to face her with brows furrowed.

" I thought you called her auntie?"

" It's more like a term of endearment. Everybody's an auntie or an uncle."

With her works, Marc is reminded that he does in fact know that. His time with Layla taught him a lot about Egyptian culture, but that fact must have just slipped his mind.

As Cleo finishes her coffee, still half naked from the events of the previous night, Marc stands with his arms crossed, face void of any expressions as he watches her. He rethinks his choice to bring her breakfast. Maybe that's a sign of weakness. Maybe it's a sign that he's getting too close. He can't do it all over. He can't do it again. He can't get close to someone. All that will happen is he'll leave. He'll lose feelings and leave.

Just like he did with Layla.

He couldn't be vulnerable with her. He couldn't let his guard down, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn't get him to trust her. And because of it, she didn't trust him. They summed up their marriage as a mistake. Something that should have never happened, and so they both willingly signed the divorce papers. But Marc can't do it again. He can't put Cleo through it. He just can't.

Once breakfast is finished, Cleo takes a long, cold shower to cool her aching skin, and puts on some clothes. She combs through her damp hair and accidentally makes eye contact with Marc. She tears her eyes away and continues to comb through her locks, the hot air quickly drying it. She puts on her shoes and grabs a pair of sunglasses as she heads for the door.

" Be right back," Cleo says, then closes the door behind her.

Cleo walks down the stoned steps of the beautiful Egyptian hotel and enters the lobby. She sees her auntie sat behind a desk as she reads a magazine, but then she turns her head and stops dead in her tracks. Her eyes go wide, bulging out of her head as the other woman in the lobby smiles at her, standing with a veil that she pushes down to reveal her hair.

" Marhaban Cleopatra (Hello, Cleopatra)"

" la tunadini bidhalik (Don't call me that)"

Cleo looks over to the auntie sitting behind the desk, still reading her magazine, then turns her head back to the woman.

" What are you doing here?" Cleo questions.

" Do I need a reason to visit my daughter?" Akila asks as she takes slow and paced out steps, " You've grown."

" That's what happens after 13 years," Cleo states, feeling her chest clench and pulse.

Akila smiles as she gets closer to her child, attempting to reach out and cup her cheek, but feels the need to pull away, knowing she hasn't yet earned it.

" Can we take a walk?"

Cleo holds her breath, her eyes scanning over her mother's as she contemplates the offer. And, as much as she wants to escape it, she gives it. She nods, and puts on her sunglasses as they walk out onto the streets. Akila puts her veil back over her head as she walks with her child. Their heads are even as they walk, they're nearly the same height. They share the same hair, their eyes are equally captivating, but not all their features are alike. While Cleo shares features with her mother, her nose and her smile belong to her father. Akila's eyes are unable to remove themselves from her beautiful daughter, her daughter that she hasn't seen in so long, and her daughter who holds so much pain within her heart... and it's because of her.

" Auntie Ramla seems happy to see you," Akila says, attempting to spark a conversation, " She's known you since you were little."

" She taught me how to read tarot when you and baba were out doing whatever it is that was more important than your child," Cleo sighs, keeping her eyes in front of her at all times.

Akila frowns. She knows what she says is true, but tries to work passed it.

" It was always for you, qamari, " Akila adds, " Everything we did... it was all for you."

" Let me guess... to save my soul?" Cleo asks, stopping to turn and face her mother.

Akila's eyes widen in shock for she had no idea Cleo knew the truth.

" How did you--"

" I found the rest of her soul."

Akila pauses, the gears in her head working tirelessly as she thinks of what to say next.

" That's all we ever wanted," She expresses, " For years, we searched for something that would... that would give you a complete soul."

" And that's your excuse for shutting me out?" Cleo asks as she crosses her arms, " You knew the truth. You knew the consequences of what you did... and you didn't help me. I was suffering in silence for years while you and baba locked yourselves in the office."

" I know," Akila sighs.

" It would be one thing if you were successful... but you weren't," Cleo says, attempting to hold back tears, but her voice giving it all away as she steps forward, " I had to move. I had to teach myself and I had to do the thing you never could... I had to fix myself."

Cleo bites back the tears, thankful for her sunglasses to hide the pain as she sees tears well up in her mother's eyes.

" I'm sorry," Akila whispers, " I'm sorry..."

" That can't erase years of pain," Cleo sniffs, feeling her throat burn as she continues to hold back.

Akila looks at her child, her one and only child, with pain and regret in her eyes. Slowly, she brings her hands up to remove Cleo's sunglasses and places them on top of her head. Akila then cups Cleo's face in her hands. She leans forward, and as Cleo closes her eyes, Akila presses a gentle kiss to each of her eyelids. She pulls away just the slightest as Cleo opens her glossy eyes.

" 'ana asf (I am sorry)" Akila whispers, " I am sorry for all the pain I have caused you. I have only ever wanted what's best for you. You... you were a miracle. And I have not been completely honest with you," she takes a deep breath, " When I was a teenager, I had this... boyfriend. We were young and stupid and one day... I find out I was pregnant. He leaves me... and back then I couldn't even think about telling my parents. I found a doctor who would help me, and even though the abortion worked, he said it could... complicate things," Cleo sniffs, trying her hardest not to let the tears fall, " It was a backalley place. One you go to if you have no money and nowhere else to go, and every day I wish I had just gone to the hospital. It is why your father and I struggled to conceive... and I think it's why there we so many complications with my pregnancy," tears begin to fall freely down her face, " I'm sorry that my actions in the past made your life difficult... and I am sorry that my mistake as a teenager hurt you."

Cleo can't hold back any longer. She lets the tears stream down her face as her face is held by her mother. Cleo, in turn, cups her mother's face as well, her thumbs wiping away the tears.

" hasanan (It's okay)" She whispers, " anaha laysat ghaltatak (It's not your fault)"

Akila lets out a smile with a gentle laugh, finding a moment of release. A moment of clarity.

" I love you qamari," She says.

" I love you too," Cleo nods, " But I need you to do something for me," Akila nods, " I need you to leave Cairo. Go back home. It's not safe for you here."

With that, Akila furrows her brows.

" Who taught you how to handle a blade?" She asks, " Whatever the threat, I will be fine."

" This isn't something you can throw knives at, 'umiy," Cleo states, " Please... go back to Alexandria."

While Akila doesn't understand the nature of the threat, she can see it in her daughter's eyes that it is serious. She nods and pulls her hands away and Cleo does the same.

" Will you be okay?" Akila asks.

Cleo nods.

" Where's baba?"

" In Vienna for a conference."

Cleo takes in the information, then turns around to walk back to the hotel with her mother, who still has a thousand questions to ask.

The women enter the lobby, and of course, auntie is still reading her magazine. Cleo turns back to face her mother, and despite her mind screaming at her nod to, she pulls her in for a hug. Akila instantly wraps her arms around her child, embracing her for what feels like the first time in forever. She reluctantly pulls away as Cleo does, watching her child smile and then turn around to walk up the stairs.

An encounter that felt like a few minutes reveals itself to be longer as she enters the hotel room. The door creaks open, and at first, she sees the mirror. The mirror that Marc had first covered when they arrived. The sheet falls down to the floor to reveal a crack in the center in the form of a fist. Her eyes follow the trail of scattered objects until she finds Marc sitting with his back against the bed and a bottle of alcohol in his hands. He takes a swig from the bottle, revealing the cuts on his fists as Cleo shuts the door. She approaches carefully, as if one wrong move will blow both of them up. She kneels beside him, and he doesn't turn. He doesn't acknowledge her presence in his intoxicated state. Cleo attempts to remove the bottle from his grasp, but he doesn't let her. He brings it to his mouth once more and lets the amber liquid drip down his throat in an attempt to drown his pain. To drown out the voices. And she knows that it's Marc. She can tell. The two men carry themselves very differently. Steven, while being a ball of anxiety, isn't visibly tense. He slouches his shoulders, but normally carries a smile on his face. Marc, on the other hand, always looks like there's a weight on his shoulders. He stands tall and wide with a scowl, his forehead wrinkled from furrowed brows.

Cleo gently places her hand on his shoulder, to signal to him that she's here, but he leans away. He stands up, the alcohol making the simple action slightly difficult, and he walks towards the window. He pulls back the billowing drapes to reveal their stunning view of the pyramids. He stares out the window, his might nearly blank, nearly numb. He's almost accomplished what he's been trying to do. Cleo stands up and walk towards him, slowly, cautiously. She's not concerned about getting hurt, but rather about Marc's mental state.

" Can I have the bottle?" She asks, her voice gentle and calm.

Cleo stands behind him, waiting as the drunken gears turn in his head, but surprisingly, he listens. He reaches his hand out and hands her the bottle, all while keeping his eyes in front of him. She removes the bottle from his grasp and sets it down on the desk, then turns back to him.

" You wanna tell me what happened?" She asks, careful not to press to hard.

Marc takes a deep, staggering breath, still refusing to move from his spot. He doesn't respond, he stays silent and stays still, as if doing so means he won't feel any pain.

After a few more moments of silence, Cleo takes a step forward, leaving a couple feet of distance between them.

" I'm always here to listen," She starts, " I can help you with whatever you're going through."

A scoff leaves Marc's lips at her words as he shakes his head. Still, he refuses to speak. He turns around, his body facing her but his eyes not. He attempts to walk passed her, but she side steps so he's forced to face him.

" Marc..." Cleo says, his name sounding divine coming from her lips, " Please. I can help you."

And finally, Marc decides to break his silence.

" No... you can't."

" Marc," She says, slowly bringing a hand up to touch his face, but upon seeing him flinch, she instantly retracts.

She tries to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces in the case of Marc Spector.

He doesn't give her much to work with, but fortunately, she's able to read between the lines. And with her recent investigation to his possible disorder, her theory seems to be more an more correct.

Marc Spector is a troubled man. One riddled with trauma, trauma throughout his life.

The specifics are unknown, but she doesn't care. He's in pain, and she want to fix that. As she looks up into his eyes, she sees him fighting back tears. She sees his pain, and his unwillingness to let his emotions out. She sees him bottling everything up. Her gaze softens as her heart aches, and it aches for him. She inhales through her nose as she takes the tiniest step forward.

" Marc... can I hug you?" Cleo asks, gently and ever so softly.

He doesn't know why, and he doesn't know what did it, but her words cause Marc's tough guy act to fade away. He feels his emotions bubbling up under his skin, and Cleo can see he's on the brink, so she closes the gap between them and wraps her arms around his bare torso, and as the side of her face comes in contact with his skin, he loses it. Marc breaks down with a sob, tears flowing freely out his eyes and down his cheeks as his emotions explode. At first, he doesn't hug her back, but soon enough his arms are around her and pulling her close. Closer to him.

Marc usually prides himself for being able to keep it all in, but now, with her... he just can't.

He cries into her hair, the top of her head wet from tears, but she doesn't care. She stands her ground, holding him tightly as he lets himself feels his emotions, and he feels them all. Everything he's been hiding for the longest time comes up and out with a sob. His body shakes as he cries, his legs starting to give out, both from the emotional pain and the substance abuse to numb that pain. But Cleo doesn't let him fall. She holds him up, both physically and emotionally. She's there for him, and she lets him no. She doesn't dare pull away, and she has no intentions on doing so. She'll stay there as long as it'll take.

Upon hearing his sobs turn into sniffles, Cleo slowly removes her head from his chest and tilts her neck to be meet with his beautiful brown eyes, now red and puffy with a small line of snot escaping his nose. She doesn't move, she keeps her eyes on his, being careful of his boundaries and not stepping over them.

They stand in silence, and neither one of them break it. Marc is too overwhelmed with emotions to even know what to say, so he says nothing at all. He looks into her eyes, and is surprised that she's still here. He can't believe he cried like a baby in front of her, and not only is she still here, but she hugged him. She hugged him as he cried, and that alone is enough for his heart to skip a beat.

He sees a strand of hair out of place. He sees how it covers his eyes by just the tiniest bit, so he brings his hand up and gently tucks the hair behind her ear, so her gorgeous eyes have nothing hiding them. Cleo takes a deep breath as he does, her eyes flickering between his right and his left as she tries to find the right thing to say.

And yet, they still don't speak. They both remain silent as they stand in each others arms in front of the open window that allows small gusts of air to occasionally blow by.

Little by little, inch by inch, their faces get closer. They unconsciously lean closer, both aching for something, anything. Their noses touch, and Cleo feels her heart leap out of her chest. She feels herself being drawn to him, she feelings herself wanting him. And Marc can't help himself. He's in a vulnerable state already, and is unable to contain his emotions since he let them fly freely. He's unable to contain his desires.

It's wrong. It's so wrong. She and Steven have been courting for months, and along comes Marc and she finds herself confused. Confused about what she wants. Confused about who.

She knows what she feels, but she doesn't feel them for just one.

It's so twisted, yearning for two people within the same body. Or maybe that's what makes it okay, is that they have the same body... but they don't have the same mind. They are two separate entities within the same human form, and no matter how many times Cleo tries to convince herself she can't, she just ends up telling herself that she can.

Her eyes flickering down to his lips, and then back up to his eyes as he slowly walks her backwards.

" We shouldn't..." Cleo whispers, fighting every single natural urge in her body.

" I don't care," Marc whispers, nearly closing the gap between them.

Heart's beating, body's sweating, minds running wild.

Marc's lips ghost over Cleo's. He can feel her breath against his, and as his draws in a breath his nostrils fill with her signature perfume, making almost lose it all over again.

They could give it. They could both so very easily give in, but a certain God will not make it easy for them.

" GET TO WORK. YOUR DESIRES CAN WAIT."

Ever so reluctantly, Marc pulls away. He leaves Cleo wanting for more as he takes a step back, but his eyes never leave. They stay focused on her blown pupils, feeling his skin crawl from the lack of contact. With one deep breath and a clearing of his throat, Marc reverts to the man Cleo knows him to be.

Closed off and silent.

Marc turns around to get dressed as Cleo stays still. Her face is red and hot to the touch, her body aching all over as her minds yearns for the man across the room and the man in the mirror. But then, the God appears behind her, making himself known to only her and not his servant.

" DO NOT WORRY, MY PET. I WILL LET YOU HAVE THEM... THAT IS, OF COURSE... IF YOU DO WHAT I ASK."

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[ i am so sorry ]