The morning sun peeks through the curtains, casting faint rays of light into the room. Cleo stirs in bed, her mind heavy with the weight of the decision she has to make. It felt like a noose tightening around her neck, each breath becoming shallower as the tension coils within her. She sits up, the sheets falling from her body as she gazes at the vacant space beside her. Marc's presence looms large, his absence palpable.

Cleo's fingers tremble as she reaches for her phone, the screen illuminating her anxious face. She scrolls through countless messages, her heart pounding with each passing second. The job offer, an opportunity to return to Cairo, a chance to reclaim a part of herself she has longed yearned for. But it also means leaving behind the life she had built, the love she had found. The room is suffocating, the walls closing in on her as she grapples with the magnitude of her choices. The silence between them is deafening, a silent battlefield where words were unnecessary. They have fought this battle many times before, but now it seems more significant, more painful.

Cleo's mind drifts back to the night before, the heated exchange, the accusations hurled like weapons. Steven's concern mingles with Marc's frustration, a tumultuous storm brewing within. Each personality has their own desires, their own fears, and Cleo finds herself caught in the crossfire. She closes her eyes, trying to find solace within the darkness. The memories of their intertwined past flooded her mind, the intertwining threads of love and pain weaving an intricate tapestry. She recalls the warmth of Steven's touch, his unwavering support, the laughter they have shared. But Marc's presence, though less frequent, has left an indelible mark on her soul, a connection that could not be severed.

The room remains still, the air heavy with unspoken words. Cleo can almost feel their presence, their essence swirling around her like a whirlwind of emotions. She longs for clarity, for a sign that would guide her through the labyrinth of her heart. But clarity eludes her, lost in the depths of her own conflicted psyche. She stands up, her bare feet making contact with the cold wooden floor. The chill shoots up her spine, a stark reminder of the choices that lay ahead. The email, still unread, seems to taunt her, a portal to a world she had once called home. Cairo, the city of ancient wonders and buried dreams, beckons her like a siren's call.

Her gaze drifts to the mirror, her reflection staring back at her with questioning eyes. Who is she? A woman torn between her own desires and the commitments she has made. The weight of responsibility settles upon her shoulders, threatening to crush her spirit. In the depths of her soul, she yearns for freedom, for the chance to chase her dreams without restraint. A tremor runs through her body as she reaches out, her hand brushing against the cool glass. She wondering if the person staring back at her could see the turmoil within, the chaos that threatens to consume her. She traces her own reflection, the lines of her face etched with determination and doubt.

The room remains shrouded in silence, the stillness magnifying the tension that hung in the air. Cleo can almost hear the whispers of her own heart, the conflicting desires vying for dominance. Steven's love, warm and familiar, whispers promises of a future they had planned together. Marc's presence, enigmatic and passionate, echoes the call of adventure and self-discovery.

Her hand drops from the mirror, the decision unmade, suspended in the limbo of indecision. The room seems to close in around her, the walls tightening like a vise. The weight of her choices threatens to crush her, leaving her gasping for breath. A hand on her shoulder makes her jump, pulling out of her daze as she turns around to face the gaze of a puzzle piece.

" Ooop! Sorry, sorry," Steven stumbles, feeling his heart sink down into his stomach as he casually brushes the specks of sand off the plastic to-go cup, " Didn't mean to scare you, love," then proudly presents the cup, " Got you some coffee."

A sigh of relief escapes Cleo's lips. She offers a gentle smile as she curtly takes the warm coffee into her hands. Her fingers wrap around the familiar cup, the warmth seeping into her palms, grounding her in the present moment. She takes a tentative sip, the rich aroma filling her senses, a familiar comfort in the chaos of her thoughts.

"Thank you, Steven," She murmurs, her voice laced with gratitude.

The simple gesture reminds her of the love that exists between them, the small acts of kindness that speak volumes. It eases the tension, if only momentarily, allowing her to find a semblance of peace amidst the storm. Steven watches her, concern etched across his features, his eyes searching hers for any hint of what plagues her mind. He longs to understand, to be her anchor, but he also respects the boundaries of their shared existence. He knows that sometimes the battles fought within are ones that must be faced alone.

"I love you, Cleo," Steven whispers with a voice filled with tenderness and vulnerability," No matter what you decide, remember that."

Cleo's heart swells with emotion, tears welling up in her eyes. She places the coffee cup down on the nearby table and steps closer to Steven, embracing him tightly. In his arms, she finds solace, a brief respite from the overwhelming weight of her choices. They stand there, their bodies intertwined, as time seems to stand still. The room around them fades into the background, their connection becoming the focal point of their existence. In that moment, the complexities of their shared reality melt away, leaving only love and the unspoken promise of unwavering support.

They remain locked in their embrace, their breathing synchronized, as the outside world continues its relentless march. Cleo's mind drifts back to the mirror, the reflection of her own uncertainties and desires. The job offer, Cairo, the tantalizing possibilities dance at the edges of her consciousness. But within the safety of Steven's arms, she finds a sanctuary, a haven where she can pause and reflect. The minutes tick by, the silence stretching between them, laden with unspoken words. Cleo pulls away slightly, her hands resting gently on Steven's chest as she looks into his eyes. There is a profound understanding between them, a recognition that this decision holds significance not only for her but for them as a couple.

"I need time," Cleo finally whispers, her voice barely above a breath," To sort through my thoughts, to listen to my heart. Can you give me that?"

Steven nods, his expression filled with a mixture of love and apprehension. He understands the gravity of the situation, the delicate balance they must maintain. With a gentle squeeze of her hands, he reassures her of his unwavering support.

"Take all the time you need, love," He says softly.

A mixture of gratitude and guilt washes over Cleo. She knows the weight of her indecision rests heavily upon them both. But in that moment, she is grateful for the love that binds them, for the understanding they have cultivated through the years. With a final glance, Cleo pulls away from Steven's embrace and retrieves her coffee cup. She takes a sip, the bittersweet taste on her tongue mirroring the emotions coursing through her veins. As she turns back towards the mirror, her reflection stares back at her, a mirror of uncertainty and possibility.

From the depths of their shared mind, Marc trembles. His own fractured mind gives him pause in this moment. He wants to find any reason he can for Cleo to stay, even if it is selfish. Steven hides his doubt by being supportive of whatever Cleo decides, even if it eats away at his soul.

And even deeper, there's a seething anger that dwells in the darkness. One possessive and powerful. One that wants what Cleo sees in the mirror.

Herself.

The sound of a ringing phone makes Cleo jump once more, prompting a pile of sand to drop onto the floor without her even knowing. Marc assumes control of the body in an instant and is quick to retrieve the phone, where he sees a familiar name.

" It's your therapist," Marc states.

" Let it go to voicemail," Cleo says, holding her hand over her heart as she clears her throat.

" Did you miss a session?" He asks, but then upon meeting her gaze, lets out a sigh, " Baby... how many?"

" Four... maybe five."

" In a row?"

Cleo nods.

Marc's expression softens with concern, a wave of empathy washing over him. He understands the importance of therapy in their shared journey, the lifeline it provides in navigating the complexities of their condition. He takes a step closer to Cleo, his voice filled with tenderness.

"Hey, it's okay," He reassures her, his hand reaching out to gently brush against her arm, "We'll reach out to the therapist, explain the situation. They'll understand."

Cleo's eyes glisten with unshed tears, a mixture of guilt and vulnerability weighing heavily upon her. She leans into Marc's touch, finding solace in his presence, however fleeting it may be.

"I'm sorry," She whispers, her voice trembling, "I've been trying to figure things out, and I lost track of time."

Marc's features soften, his gaze filled with compassion. He knows the burden Cleo carries, the delicate balance between her own desires and the responsibilities she feels towards their shared life. He wants to be angry, to lash out at the circumstances that bind them. But deep down, he knows that anger will only further complicate matters.

"There's no need to apologize," Marc says, his voice gentle, "We're all navigating this together, Cleo. Let's prioritize your well-being and get back on track with therapy. It's important."

Cleo nods, gratitude swelling within her for Marc's understanding. She knows that in his presence, she can be vulnerable and true to herself. Their bond, though fraught with complexities, offers them moments of solace and shared understanding. Marc steps forward and captures her lips in a gentle kiss, one that helps to soothe Cleo's nerves for the time being.But then, her heart races, a growing sense of unease seeping into her very bones. Cleo can't shake the feeling that they are being watched, that an unseen presence hovers just beyond their vision. The room feels colder, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Goosebumps prickle along her arms, a shiver coursing down her spine.

"Do you feel that?" She whispers.

Marc's brows furrow, for he doesn't feel it. Cleo feels the weight of unseen eyes upon them, a presence that lingers just beyond their reach. It sends a chill down her spine, a primal fear stirring deep within her.

"I can't explain it," Cleo continues, her voice quivering, "But something doesn't feel right."

The unease persists, an invisible presence looming over them. The room feels smaller, suffocating, as if the walls themselves hold secrets and hidden depths.

As they stand there, Cleo and Marc cast furtive glances around the room, their senses on edge. They catch glimpses of movement in the periphery of their vision, shadows that seem to dance and sway in an ethereal rhythm. But whenever they turn their heads, the figures dissipate, leaving behind only a lingering sense of foreboding.

Unbeknownst to them, an ancient entity watches from the unseen corners of the room. It stands tall and imposing, its presence commanding and enigmatic. Its eyes, filled with a glint of otherworldly wisdom, remain fixed upon Cleo and Marc, observing their every move, every whisper, every unspoken fear.

The god's gaze is inscrutable, its intentions shrouded in mystery. It lingers there, unseen yet ever-present, a silent witness to their lives and their choices. It is a force beyond mortal comprehension, a reminder of the ancient powers that continue to hold sway over the world. Cleo and Marc, oblivious to the god's watchful presence, continue their struggle to make sense of the strange energy that permeates the room. They cling to each other, their shared strength becoming their anchor in this unsettling moment.

Little do they know, their every move, every decision, is being silently observed by a deity that transcends mortal understanding. The god's intentions remain veiled, its presence a constant reminder of the grand tapestry of existence, where mortals and deities dance in an eternal interplay of power and destiny.

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[ who do y'all think is there? 👀 ]