Phoenix Maplewood akele hum, akele tum

he drank her words in, listening with an attentive ear. he was expecting an apology and got one, in part, but the words were not the balm to his wounds he thought they would be. she had shattered his trust, sent him into his own spiral of self-doubt, and it would take time to piece it all back together. time. not these words, which he didn't know to be true.

"you have to decide what you want," aditya responded quietly, giving her a gimlet stare. "but dawn. . .you can have both. you can be with me, and you can be free." here he gave an incredulous laugh, one he'd been choking back for days. "god, did you think i'd trap you in your den and not let you out?"

the wind stirred his pelt, and he continued, voice growing stronger. "we love each other because our souls are the same. we're adventurers at heart. and yes, children will change that, but only for a little while." he paused, then, unsure if he should voice his next statement, lest she seize upon it like a fish to bait. finally, tentatively, he added, "even if you don't want children, i won't force them on you."

dying childless seemed a fate worse than anything, but he was willing to risk it for her sake. he didn't know why he continued to sacrifice things for a woman so clearly ambivalent about their future. yet this was hariji's love. . .deep, boundless, unconditional. and if he were to live in his deity's image, then this is what he must do.

"everyone has doubts about themselves; it's natural," aditya murmured, stepping the barest distance closer to her. he held her gaze for the first time in days, firm and unflinching. "but up until the other day, i had never doubted you. i didn't doubt you until you gave me a reason to doubt.

"tell me, dawn. . .should i let those doubts go, now? do you speak true?"