#Testimonials of Luminous

[astraystayyh]

Echoes of love

"to love someone is firstly to confess : i am prepared to be devastated by you."

Chapter i. to forget

genre : memory loss trope. angst. slow burn. unrequited love except you were in a loving relationship and everything changes overnight.

pairing : minho x reader.

summary : if given the choice would you love minho again? yes, you would've once said in a heartbeat. but now, you aren't sure of your response anymore.

cw : depiction of a car accident. mention of blood and physical wounds. depiction of a nightmare and anxiety attack. reader has she/her pronouns.

word count : 14.8k words.

song recs : the night we met/terrible love/black friday/cover me.

a.n: she's here, she's yours, i hope you'll enjoy reading one of the most challenging things I've ever wrote :') your feedback is highly appreciated <3

special thanks to @forlix for going through this journey with me, i love you thank you, seriously, you mean the world to me. and to @dorisnumber1fan for listening to my initial rants about this fic, and all the ones i ever write. i love you and appreciate you so much, more than i could explain <3

quotes series masterlist. next chapter.

Day 1.

You're floating in a dark void, save for the specks of light swirling around you. A peculiar serenity fills your being, a tranquility unlike any you’ve ever known. It’s as though your body isn’t your own; but rather an otherworldly vessel, calmly traversing the cosmos, dancing in constellations with the stars that encircle you.

A sudden electrifying warmth surges from your hand, traveling down the contours of your knuckles, melting into the lines of your palm. It pulsates within your being as if you’re holding the Earth's very core between your fingers. You stir from your ethereal orbit, longing to break apart from the celestial lights, to reunite with your body once again.

The warmth intensifies, causing your fingers to involuntarily clench. A deluge of radiance enfolds you, drawing you into a luminous hole. You squint your eyes, drinking in the light- your first breath.

Your eyes flutter open in a daze, your throat parched, rasping like sandpaper against your vocal cords. White encompasses you yet again, from the high ceilings to the pristine bed you’re lying on. It takes you a few blinks to grasp your new environment- an unfamiliar hospital room. You wearily close your eyes, hoping for the stillness to return, aching for the peace you felt within your bones mere moments ago.

But to no avail; only the tingling sensation remains.

You tilt your head, eyebrows shooting upwards as you notice a hand clasping yours. A figure lies their forehead beside your body, black disheveled locks tickling your palm.

The warmth, you understand where it comes from now.

You attempt to slip your hand out of theirs, prompting the man to awaken with a jolt, surprise dancing across his features as his gaze meets yours. Dark circles adorn his face- testimonies to days of fatigue imprinted upon every feature of his. Yet, all of it dissipates as he gazes at you, lips slightly parted, bunny teeth peeking out. His face transforms into a radiant smile, stirring a mysterious longing within your soul- it brushes against your fingertips before slipping beyond your reach. 

"You're awake," he whispers in awe, and your tiredness renders you mute. You point to your throat, hoping that he'll understand what you need. "Water? Is- Is that what you want?" he asks, a touch too eager, fingers running through his hair in sheer disbelief. You nod and he rises swiftly, pouring you a glass of water and bringing it to your lips.

You sip diligently as his hand caresses the crown of your hair, the warmth now traveling to the top of your head. You feel lightheaded as if the blood in your veins has thickened, the very life in you slowed to a faint whisper. Yet, a timid relief emerges as your thirst is finally quenched.

"I'll- I'll go call the doctor," he tells you, his beaming smile unwavering. It’s too bright, everything around you is, and you feel a throbbing headache growing at your temple’s base.

It's a mere minute before the man returns, a doctor and two nurses on his trail. You float within a haze as the nurse shines a beam of light in your eyes. The response of your pupils seems to please her.

"Do you remember what happened?" the doctor inquires and you frown. You've been racking your brain for an explanation as to why you're here, but to no avail. You shake your head.

"What's your name," he proceeds, lips growing into a thin line.

"Y/n, Y/l/n," you respond, your voice sounding foreign to your ears, as though it hasn’t left the confines of your throat for ages. You miss the darkness; you want to sleep again.

"What date are we?"

Your eyebrows knit together as you try to think of an answer. "The 20th or maybe the 21st September."

"What year?"

"2022."

An eerie silence falls upon the room, a stillness resembling the one of your dreams; but it isn’t comforting, on the contrary, it fills your being with an unsettling dread, one that trickles inside you with each second spent in silence. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. You close your eyes to avoid the sorry ones of the nurse.

"We need to run you an MRI scan," the doctor finally speaks up, tone somber. "It appears you're suffering from retrograde amnesia. But we have to make sure."

It takes time for the words to permeate your consciousness, for the syllables to settle in and start to make sense. Amnesia.

What have you forgotten?

“What…” you chuckle warily, fingers reaching up to soothe your throbbing forehead. “What year is it?”

"It's the 24th of September 2023. You were in a severe car accident two days ago, a drunk truck driver rammed into your car on your way home. You have a fractured rib and extensive leg injury, but no broken bones thankfully. We'll get you to the scan shortly, okay?" he speaks easily as if announcing that you've missed the rain while asleep. As if it’s not a year’s worth of memories you’ve seemingly forgotten, erased in the span of a blink, akin to footprints on sand washed away by the waves. Nothing of importance.

"So, you don't... remember me?" a soft voice quivers, barely above a whisper, and your eyes meet those of the man who’s been at your side, temporarily forgotten in the conversation.

His question is laced with a grave fear, evident in his dilated pupils and trembling hands. A lump blooms in your throat, its thorns pricking at your voice. You aren’t sure you want to answer that question.

"I- I don't."

"Oh."

You’ve never known that a human could crumble in silence, in an imperceptible gasp, so small you almost did not hear it. A crestfallen expression materializes on his face in the span of a heartbeat, features coming together in the rawest expression of anguish you’ve ever seen. You bite your lip.

"Who- Who are you?" you implore, urgency inflecting your tone, hoping that he's no one of importance. Someone who helped you when you got into a car accident. Someone minor who you wouldn't fault your brain for forgetting.

"I was... I-I am your boyfriend. Minho," he utters his name like a broken plea, eyes slightly widening to gauge your reaction. As though those two syllables hold within them a myriad of memories, ones you simply cannot forget.

You don't remember.

The doctor was right in his diagnosis. The scan showed unusual activity within your brain, characteristic of post-traumatic amnesia. You listened numbly as he cited the precautions you should take to heal your physical wounds- to rest, not carry anything heavy, ice your lungs, and go on walks. But you did not care for the state of your body, you’ve bruised it before and it has healed in its own time. It will do it again; it is a familiar path you’ve already undergone. But what about your memory? Your mind that robbed you of a year of your life? How do you get it back?

“There is no guarantee you’d remember. There is also no treatment for amnesia. We advise that you focus on healing first. Do not strain your mind,” your doctor smiled, before leaving the room. His silver wedding band shined mockingly underneath your eye. He doesn’t know what it’s like to forget the lover awaiting you at home.

Minho dutifully sat by your side, nodding along to the doctor’s words. He signed your discharge papers and settled your bills before you could protest, and he was now pushing your wheelchair through the hospital's corridors. You didn’t know what to say to him- how do you talk to a stranger who uttered your name with love dripping between its letters?  

In the hospital’s parking lot, Minho pauses, squatting before you. His eyes are puffy, red veins contrasting against the pristine whites, betraying the tears he must have shed when he excused himself to the toilet.

You suddenly want to beg for a reprieve; it is too much pain for one day, too much for one soul to bear. But it is only six p.m. and Minho's gaze holds you captive, a new emotion dancing in his brown irises- grief. He's looking at you as though you're a phantom, gone when you are still very much breathing.

“We've been together for eleven months, and we moved in together two months ago,” he licks his lips nervously. “You have a two-month medical leave, and I- I don’t want to leave you alone, while you recover. So, you can think of us as… as roommates.” The word felt heavy on his tongue, a fresh wave of tears brimming in his waterline. He swiftly blinks them away.

Your parents are in a faraway city, so is your best friend. You were the one who decided to move somewhere so far, to flee from the skeletons threatening to spill out of your closet. You don't want to burden anyone. You just want to rest.

You nod in agreement and Minho attempts to smile. It is a useless effort; one he quickly gives up. There was nothing to be joyous about.

Minho takes your hand, gently helping you to your feet. He opens the door to his car, and you settle into the passenger seat. It smells pleasant, an apple-scented diffuser dangling from the rearview mirror. Yet, as Minho closes the door, the scent suddenly suffocates you. Your lungs ignite, consuming your oxygen to douse their rising flames. You can no longer breathe inside, panic rippling in your heart violently, pushing at your ribs, begging for an escape. You open the door, collapsing to your knees as a violent coughing fit overtakes you. You blindly clutch at Minho’s arm and he tumbles to the ground with you. 

The ugly sob that had been trapped within your throat finally escapes, and passersby pay you no mind. It must be usual to hear gut-wrenching cries in a hospital parking lot. But Minho seems to care, as his hands soothingly rub your back, undergoing a steadfast path from the nape of your neck down the base of your spine. He’s not panicking and his touch appears to instinctively know how to speak to your sadness, how to soothe your sorrow with unheard words.

You imagine it's not his first time comforting you, and the thought only forces another sob from the depths of your soul, as Minho pulls you up once again. He sits your shaky figure on the wheelchair, closing the car doors.

“We can walk,” he tells you gently, and despite the quietness of his voice, it manages to break through your raging storm. A singular sun ray parting the gloomy clouds.

“It’s okay, I’ll... I’ll suck it up”

"You've been through a terrible car accident, and I won't let you sit here and panic, especially when your wounds are still fresh and your mind is trying to protect you."

His tone is resolute, eyes blazing with determination as he looks at you. You can only nod in response. So, Minho pushes your wheelchair to his house. He doesn’t huff, nor complain about the autumn sun scorching his skin, the effort to push you for the entirety of the road, and then inside his building. He only smiles when his eyes meet yours in the elevator mirror.

He’s tentative as he opens the door to his apartment, hand tightly gripping the keys before turning them, as if preparing himself for a bigger heartbreak, one that lies within what was once his sanctuary- yours too, you suppose.

Minho pushes you inside, pausing near the entrance as your eyes drink in the interior. He seems to await something, perhaps for you to remember the place you’ve called home for the past months. A few seconds pass, and he clears his throat, holding your arm to guide you forward. He avoids your gaze as you both venture in.

“This is the kitchen,” he points to a small kitchenette, where a flower bouquet seems to have wilted, much like the man near you- his emotions now diluted, eyes dimmed as they glaze over the walls. You spot your favorite mug on the racks, one that resembles a fairy mushroom. The sight of it makes your heart clench in your chest. So, this is your home, after all.

You leave the kitchen and walk down a narrow hallway when you stumble on your feet. “Easy, honey,” Minho cautions, and your hold on his forearm falters. He blinks at you before gazing up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” you reply in a small voice.

Minho leads you to the living room, cream-colored sofas with a navy blanket on top, multiple fuzzy pillows scattered all around. A tulip field painting graces the accent blue wall- your favorite flower, two matching slippers rest by the couch, racks of your novels adjacent to his collection of cookbooks, you assume. 

It is all the more evident to you that you’ve both lived here, lives intertwining so seamlessly into one another. The place radiates comfort and warmth, but it refuses to penetrate your being, as if you’re harboring a shield of oblivion, ricocheting off any touch of remembrance. You’re an intruder, standing in stark contrast to the inviting coziness that envelops you.

“I like that wall,” you say in an attempt to lighten the stuffy atmosphere.

“We painted it together,” Minho smiles sadly, and your remorse seems to liquify, blending in with the blood running through your veins.

From the corner of your eyes, you spot three furry masses bolting towards you, small paws clawing at your feet. You feel another dent add to your heart, so much you are sure it would blow away at the tiniest gust of wind. Just how much have you forgotten?

“We… We had cats?” you ask breathlessly, eyes widening as you take in the two orange felines, and the gray, much smaller one.

“These are mine, but you also adopted them, in a way,” he explains, crouching down to pet his cats, scratching the sensitive spot behind their ears. He is tender with them and they appear at ease in his presence. You realize you’ve felt the same since you’ve woken up.

“Hey, my babies,” he coos softly. “Mom- I mean y/n- is tired so let’s give her some space, okay?” he quickly corrects, before gently pushing the cats away from your feet.

Minho shows you the bathroom before leading you to the bedroom- it's a bit untidy, worn clothes thrown on the ground, some of your accessories tossed on top of the vanity. As if the room was also frozen in time, awaiting your return to resume its familiar course.

“You'll sleep here and I'll just take the couch,” Minho interrupts your thoughts as he gently sits you atop the bed.

"But-"

"I’ll make you dinner so you can take your medication, okay?” he ignores your objections, adjusting two pillows behind your back to help you sit up straight, just like the doctor cautioned. His necklace, adorned with your initial, brushes against your cheek. “Try to sleep meanwhile. You need to rest.”

“Minho this is too much-"

“It’s not. If you need anything just call me over, I’ll leave the door open,” he says, tucking you in beneath the blanket. 

“I don’t want to burden you,” you finally admit, voice slightly raised so he’d finally listen.

“Y/n, I love you.” He speaks so suddenly, fists balled on either side of your body. “And this is what I do for the person I love. I… I don’t know how to not care for you, don’t take that away from me, please. Please,” he repeats, voice faltering under the weight of his plea. 

"Okay," you concede. 

You can't quite remember that first night, the morphine injected into your veins made you ebb and flow out of consciousness, only recollecting small fragments of the hours flowing by.

But you remember the dull pain settling into your bones, one you knew would accompany you for the following weeks. You remember the thoughts swirling in your mind like a tempest- your near brush with death, how she almost trapped you into her icy hold; the year of memories gone with the wind, as if they were never yours to begin with; and the stranger whose home you are in now, the very one who took care of you throughout the night.

And you can't perfectly recall it, but you swear Minho stayed by your side until the early hours of the morning, warm hand pressed to your forehead to check your temperature, cold tears falling on your arm as he laid his head next to your sleeping body.

Day 2.

You miss being asleep the second you wake up in.

Every fiber of your being aches, as though pain has latched itself into every muscle, its grip unrelenting now that the morphine's comforting veil has lifted. You drag a hand tiredly across your face, tears of frustration welling like dewdrops in your eyes. It's only 10 a.m. Far too early for one's spirit to crumble.

A bright post-it note on the bedside table catches your weary gaze. "I went to drop your medical leave at your work. I've made you breakfast it's in the kitchen. Don't forget to drink your medicine, I'll be home soon"

What home was Minho referring to, exactly? Because this one wasn’t yours, and neither was the one back in your hometown. Were you destined to be a passerby in temporary places, always lingering near the door, ready to put your shoes back on and leave at any moment?

10:03. Still too early.

You find solace in having two months off of your work. You couldn’t bear being somewhere where everybody knew you for months, while your memories of them span but mere weeks. The expectations they would have, the pressure to conform, to mirror the footsteps of your past self was an unbearable burden. What if she was better than you? Made better choices, spoke more eloquently? What if you couldn't live up to the image they had conjured? What if you couldn't face the repercussions of your past actions?

10:07. You need to shower.

You slowly ease yourself off the bed, careful not to put pressure on your injured leg, avoiding even the slightest exhalation. You pretend as if nothing’s happening as you pick up a pair of pajamas that you recognize from the closet – a familiar relic from the life you’ve always known.

It's a charade, you’re aware of it. You're but treading on fragile ice, your pain threatening to shatter the frozen façade beneath your feet, plunging you into the frigid truth at any given moment.

You walk into the shower, attempting to rinse the day's tiredness away. But moving your limbs is a strenuous task, and you can't reach over your head to wash your hair. You let out a dry chuckle as the water runs over your back, splattering across the white tiles.

Your heart swells in your chest, an uncomfortable weight pressing against your fractured ribs. Still, it beats, and you cling with all your might to this one silver lining.

Minho has made you pancakes, not the most nutritious meal but the only one you can stomach on your sick days. He's also brewed you tea, a singular sugar cube resting at the bottom of your cup, just the way you like it. Your grip on your fork tightens, knuckles paling. You wish he had put three sugar cubes, or that he made you anything but pancakes, something to reassure you that he didn’t know you so intimately. That your mind hasn’t stolen a love where every detail of you was known. 

The door opens, keys clinking on a solid surface. The sound of it tugs at your heart ever so faintly, a distant bell ringing somewhere far- it quiets down before you even realize it is there.

“Good morning,” Minho greets, the corners of his mouth curving upward although his eyes remain downcast, redness tinging its outlines. You look down at your cup, unable to hold his wounded stare.

“Good morning. Thank you for the breakfast and for going to my work. I really appreciate it,” you say.

“It's nothing. Your coworkers wish you a speedy recovery.”

“Mm,” you murmur. “That's nice of them."

“Here,” he slides a phone across the table. “I bought you a new one since your phone’s screen was smashed in the car accident, but I took it to a repair shop. Maybe they’d manage to fix it.”

You go to protest when he shakes his head, silencing you. “Don’t say It’s too much.”

A surprised giggle escapes your lips at his accurate prediction, momentarily halting Minho in his tracks. You swallow the sound down as Minho clears his throat, dissipating your laughter into thin air. “I put my phone number there. Also, the ones of your family that I have. Always call me if you need anything, okay?” he pauses, locking your eyes with his. “Anything.”

“It's okay, I really don't want to bother you. You might be busy."

“I’ll still answer,” he quickly responds. “I’ll always answer you.” 

There is a certain sincerity that coats Minho's words, one that softens the edges of his letters, making them easier to permeate your being, to sink into the seas of your soul.

“Minho,” you call out gently.

“Yes, hon- " He inhales deeply, eyes looking anywhere but at you. “Yes, Yn?”

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course.”

The ensuing hours blur into a hazy dance, in which you’re only awakened by Minho’s warm hand on your shoulder, as he brings you lunch, then dinner to your room, paired with the medicine you need to take. He doesn’t talk to you, only carrying out the tray outside when he deems you asleep- as if tiptoeing near your existence, afraid he’d slip into you again, knowing you won’t be there to catch him.

It's nearly midnight when you leave your room to use the bathroom. You pause near the door when you spot Minho petting his cats. You don’t even know their names, you haven’t dared to ask, still foolishly holding on to the hopes that this is but a horrible nightmare, one clawing at your tender skin even after you rose.

“You’re sad, aren’t you?” he coos softly, and the cats respond with plaintive mewls as if understanding his words. “Mm. I’m really sad too,” his voice is barely above a whisper, as though it’s a confession he isn’t ready to speak out loud. The pain in your ribs intensifies.

“But it’s okay, she’ll remember us. We are her family, she can’t forget us forever, right?” your breathing hitches. “Right,” he adds softly, as if to reassure himself; to inflate hope in a heart deserted by you.

Day 3.

Minho threw away the wilted flowers, leaving the vase bare at the center of the kitchen table. 

You almost wish he hadn't- those lifeless blooms were the sole reflection of your faded spirit within this home. Now everything in the house seemed alive, grand windows ushering in daylight to cascade upon the living space, causing the ivory walls to glisten. Everything, except for you and Minho, two ghosts skirting along the existence of one another.

There is, was, love imprinted in this house. You could sense it though you couldn’t feel it anymore. By the two cat mugs that connect through their tails, your products intermingling with Minho's in the bathroom sink, the notes you found hung on the fridge- some with his handwriting, most with yours, reminding Minho how much you loved him.

Where did all that love go? Did it dissipate into thin air, gone as if it had never existed? Has it turned into something else, lurking beneath the surface of your skin, waiting for you to remember?

You can’t find the answers, and as Minho finishes up his breakfast, you find yourself longing to ask him about the past year. Who you were and what you’ve lived. But you know it’ll feel like salt on a wound, akin to bringing a mirror before his face, reminding him of all that's been lost.

So instead, you offer to wash the dishes. He refuses, not that you expected anything else given his attentiveness to you.

“It’s only two plates and two cups, I can do it,” you insist, but he just stares blankly at you, before motioning to your ribs, and your swollen ankle. “It’ll be quick, please. I-I want to do it.”

“Fine,” he concedes, gaze softening. “But if you feel pain you'll stop.”

“Okay,” you smile tentatively, eager for the sense of normalcy that this mundane act would bring. You haven't forgotten how to wash a cup, at least.

Five minutes pass, and you suddenly freeze, plates drying in your hands. You have no idea where the dishes go.

This was your home, yet you can't even remember which cupboard holds the plates. 

Silent tears flow down your cheeks and you wipe them away angrily. You clutch the plate in your hands so tightly you’re surprised it hasn’t shattered. You selfishly wish it did- you were tired of being the sole broken entity in this house.

A small whimper escapes your lips, startling Minho who was mindlessly scrolling through his phone. He rushes to your side, brows furrowed, concern woven into his face. 

“What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Should I call the doctor?” he questions; eyes raking through your figure anxiously.

You shake your head as your tears double over. You can feel your heart constricting in your chest, longing for comfort, for a missing piece that was snatched from you, the void it left behind pulsating achingly within your being.

“I-I don’t know where the dishes go, and yesterday I tried to w-wash my hair and I c-couldn’t do it,” you admit through hiccups, plate still in your hands. Minho gently takes it from your tight hold, and your pinky brushes against his palm. He flexes his hand at the touch.

“It’s okay, it’s my fault. I should've shown you,” his voice is gentle, reminding you of how one soothes a child during a tantrum. You're embarrassing yourself but you can't find it in you to care. 

“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t p-put them back in their place,” you choke out, head turned down, tears ricocheting off sage tiles. You’ve always wanted a green kitchen. You’ve gotten it and you can’t remember.

“It’s okay, I’ll put them back. Shh, yn, please don’t cry.” He’s slightly panicking, hands tightly fisted near his body as if he’s afraid they’d act on their own accord, reaching out to touch you the way they’ve done the past few months. He sighs softly before taking a cautious step toward you. 

“I’ll wash your hair for you,” he offers, smiling tenderly at you, knuckles brushing ever so gently against your cheeks. “Hm? You can sit in front of the sink and I’ll wash it.”

“You’d do it?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

There is a softness that emanates from every atom of Minho, flowing from his fingertips, molding everything he touches. You were sure of it as he stood beside you, pouring shampoo over your hair with you sitting on a stool, head tilted back to the sink, your favorite song playing in the background. As he dried your hair with a warm towel, and then settled behind you on the bed, gently lathering your hair with your familiar serum, brushing your strands with care, avoiding any tugs that might pain you.

Everything Minho does is not to hurt you. 

You went to sleep with the ghost of his fingers lingering on your scalp, his warm breath still caressing the back of your neck. You found slumber came much easier to you that night. You account it to your hair finally being clean.

Day 4.

“Yn?” Minho calls out gently, his head peering through the bedroom door.  “Should we go on a walk? Just around the block, the doctor said it’d be good.”

“Sure,” you nod, glancing at the bedside clock. 9:43 p.m. it reads. 

“Dress warmly, it’s cold outside,” he advises softly before leaving.

A few minutes later, you're clad in a gray university hoodie that drapes slightly past your thighs and a pair of matching sweatpants. Minho halts in his tracks upon seeing you, his eyes racking furiously over your figure. He shakes his head, swallowing a growing lump of despair. 

“Wait here,” he whispers, vanishing into his room, leaving you fidgeting in place. An orange cat sidles up to your feet and you slowly bend down to scratch its ears. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you,” you smile sadly and he purrs in response, as if forgiving you for forgetting.

You wished you could forgive yourself too, one day.

Minho comes back, a red scarf in his hands. He steps forward until only a few inches are separating your bodies. With attentive care, he wraps the scarf around your neck, securing it in place. His brows furrow as he loops the fabric through and you release a small, shaky exhale.

There is a fog dissipating before your eyes, a misty veil lifted off your irises. In the four days you've known Minho, you always willed yourself to not look at him for too long, afraid of the pain you'd discern brewing over his figure, the shadows cast across his face.

But now, he stands so near that you cannot help but look at him. Wispy black bangs fall on top of his forehead, framing his rich honey eyes. His long eyelashes flutter with each blink, pupils dilated like a constellation-laden night sky. The smooth bridge of his high nose, dotted with the smallest mole; a well-defined cupid's bow outlining rosy, plump lips. He’s beautiful, even in his sadness; with sunken cheekbones and darkened eye circles, the hunch of his back, and the shake in his hands as he gently frees your hair from underneath the scarf.

Was it wrong of you to find beauty in his pain?

His gaze softens when it finally meets yours, his hand still holding your scarf tightly, as if it's a lifeline tethering him to you, one with which he verifies your existence, suddenly so elusive now that it no longer entwines with his.

It must be strange, surely, to grieve the loss of someone who’s still alive, breathing in the room next to yours.

Minho smiles at you, his fingers hovering above your head, as though he wished to smooth down your hair. He retracts his hand back, burying it deep inside the pocket of his black sweatpants, physically trapping it, stopping it from reaching it out to you once again. 

You’ve noticed his reticence to touch you, even when he wakes you in the morning to drink your medicine. His hand never fully rests upon your shoulder, it is only his fingertips that delicately graze your skin. It's as though he’s convinced you're but a figment of his imagination, and he fears that once he touches you, his hand will pass right through your body, shattering the illusion he foolishly held onto.

You blink and Minho’s already three steps away, grabbing his keys and opening the door.

Despite cautioning you against the cold, Minho doesn't say no when you ask for ice cream, paying for it before you can reach the counter. It's an unfamiliar brand, one that he advised you to try, and you don't regret following his choice. It’s a sweet mixture of vanilla and caramelized almonds, coated in rich milk chocolate- you can't stop the happy smile that graces your lips upon tasting it. 

You glance at Minho to find an unprecedented softness coloring his expression, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. It isn't a smile directed at you, but rather an uncontrollable display of his feelings, splashing across his face like paint on a canvas. 

You expect him to swallow this mark of affection down, to conceal it with a placid expression, but he doesn't. He only tilts his chin forward, gesturing to the ice cream.

"Do you like it?"

You hum in agreement, a grin stretching wider on your lips. "I do."

"You did too, back then, when I showed it to you," he says, almost casually, as if referring to a childhood memory that turned out to be more important to him than to you.

"You have good taste," you reply, scrunching your nose playfully at him. The smile slips away from his face, his voice somber when he speaks again. "I really do, don't I?"

Walking with Minho isn't as awkward as you had imagined it might be. He shows you the neighborhood- the nearby playground, the hidden flower shop tucked away in a corner and you make a mental note to visit it later. You point at closed shops inquiring about them- he answers each of your questions diligently.

Your accident is never brought up, and you both tiptoe around the topic, skirting the edge of a dark forest where the light no longer seeps through and dark vines cover the sun. 

You both refuse to venture into the unknown.

"Just down the road, there is a bookstore. They have really great deals and I bought most-" Shouts erupt from somewhere nearby, loud slurred voices of two men under the influence. Your hand instinctively wraps around Minho's forearm, while his hand moves in front of your body, acting as a shield. 

You freeze, letting out a shaky breath. "I- I hate yelling."

"I know," he responds simply, lowering his hand.

He knows you- it is a comforting thought, to realize that you exist beyond the confines of your own mind.

Day 5.

Minho’s staring blankly at his phone, your conversation shining dimly before his eyes. You’ve just sent him a text reassuring him that you indeed took your medicine since he wasn’t home today with you- his three days off work passing by in the blink of an eye. 

In his mind, the past week felt like a mirage, a nightmare woven with intricate threads of his deepest fears- losing you, never getting to see the glimmer in your eyes again, and then looking at it and realizing it is no longer directed at him. 

He exhales softly, tucking his phone into the pocket of his navy trousers. The salty breeze from the nearby lake grazes his senses, and he closes his eyes, yearning for a fleeting respite. 

He purposely avoids watching the sun's descent into the water, which paints the sky in hues of yellow and orange. He no longer finds the sunset unfolding before him captivating, or any other scenery, for that matter, even those he once deemed beautiful. The world, in his eyes, has become lackluster and devoid of vibrancy, overshadowed by a profound sadness he never fathomed would reside in his heart. 

He still doesn’t know how he managed to remain strong until now, tending to you, holding your gaze, and breathing near you when you don’t even remember him.

You’ve survived, he reminds himself, you were lucky enough to be able to draw these breaths. The thought of any other outcome sends uncomfortable shivers down his spine. You’re alive and you’ll be home, he clings to this truth as he starts making his way back to his apartment. 

For how long will this knowledge offer him solace? How long will it push him to face a new day? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he wants to. 

It is much deeper into the night, the sound of the TV playing softly in the background. Minho has given up on slumber since the day of your accident. He was used to the feel of your fingers playing with his hair, your goodnight kisses planted on his forehead, then his on yours. 

He doesn't know how to sleep without burying his head in your neck, your chest, your stomach, wherever he saw fit that day. And he was used to your warmth- the warmth of your body as he pressed it tightly to his, the warmth of your love as you whispered goodnight to him. And the living room feels immensely cold in your absence. 

He fixates his gaze on the ceiling, resolute in his effort to avoid scanning the room. Since every corner he dares to inspect serves as a poignant reminder of the life you both once shared, a life whose echoes still reverberate in the air around him. The sound of your laughter, the memory of your annoyed whines when he teased you a bit too fervently. Vivid recollections unfold before his eyes- your tender kisses exchanged under the fridge's light, warm hugs by the front door after a particularly long day, none of you willing to let go first. 

He remembers your delighted giggles the first time you entered the house. It was still unfurnished, save for a floatable mattress and two empty cups of ramen beside it. But you were happy, immensely so, and your joy seemed to fill every room, painting it with shades of your love. Now the house feels empty- you're here and yet you aren't, and he is still on the sidewalk where he received that fateful call from your hospital. 

The moonlight filters through the window, and Minho looks at the light without truly seeing it. It's as if darkness surrounds him entirely- a bottomless sky where the stars of your affection have fizzled out, so suddenly, leaving him alone to wander blind. He can't help but feel guilty- had he not given you a love worth remembering?

Minho sighs loudly once again, trying to coax the reluctant breaths to escape his body. He pulls himself to his feet to check on you, knowing that you had to sleep upright for the first few days so your ribs would heal properly, which is why he often found himself readjusting your body at night. 

He peeks through the door, the light from the hallway casting an ethereal glow on your body. He frowns when he notices you fidgeting in your sleep, eyebrows knitted together. A soft gasp escapes your lips and Minho hurries to your side. He's witnessed your nightmares before and he knows that this one must be particularly terrifying to elicit such startled sounds from you.

“Y/n,” Minho coaxes gently, but you don’t respond. He presses his palm to your shoulder, shaking you slightly. “Y/n, wake up.” You writhe in your place, fear evident in your features, and Minho grabs both your shoulders, growing more urgent in his attempts to wake you. “Y/n, come on wake up!” he speaks louder, and you startle awake, pushing his arms away.

“I’m... Where am I?” you ask frantically, hand running through your hair. A sharp pain seems to surge through your ribs as you clutch your chest, slightly doubling over. 

“Take it easy, Y/n. Deep breaths,” he wills gently and you raise your head, meeting his eyes. Recognition shines in them, but not love, not anymore. He never knew affection could alter someone’s gaze this much.

“Minho… I- I remember,” you gasp, tears trailing down your face at an alarming rate. He freezes in place, tongue thickening in his mouth, unable to move it.

“What... what do you remember?” he asks carefully, sitting on the edge of your bed. 

“The accident. I remember driving and I… I was going in my lane, I- I didn’t… I wasn’t driving fast, but a truck came out of nowhere and its lights blinded me, and then… it rammed into the passenger seat side of the car and-" Your hands shake as you bring them to your face. “The blood, there was so much blood coming out of me, that’s- that’s the last thing I remember, it was in my hands and my arms and-" You’re wiping frantically at your skin as if erasing remnants of the red liquid only you can see. “I bled so much but I was… I- I don’t-"

“Can I hold your hands?” Minho cuts you off, needing the panic to dissipate from your being.

“Please,” you stutter, and he promptly grabs your hands in his warm ones, intertwining your fingers together, rubbing his thumb soothingly across your palm. 

“You are safe now. You are alive and you are breathing and you are safe.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, I drove safely, why… why was I hit?” you ask in a small, broken voice, overwhelmed by the unjust reality of the world. Minho swallows his own tears, throwing them down the pits of his pain. The one thing he wished you’d never remember was your accident, the sight of your unconscious body for those three days nearly driving him insane. 

“He was drunk. And he’s in jail now. It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t have prevented it." 

You remain silent, gaze lost on the wall. “Hm? It wasn’t your fault, right?" he presses, squeezing your hand lightly.

“Yeah.” You sigh, unconvinced. Minho reluctantly drops your hand to pour you a glass of water, and you diligently drink it, before curling around yourself in a ball. 

“No, you can’t sit like this,” he gently reprimands and you pout. 

"My heart hurts. The pressure helps."

“I know it does,” he smiles in understanding, “but we have to make sure your ribs won’t hurt more, alright?” he explains as he pulls you upright, tucking pillows beneath your arms. He grabs a hoodie from the closet and rolls it into a ball, placing it gently on your chest. 

“Here, you can hug this instead.” You giggle quietly at the makeshift plushie, but your laughter suddenly morphs into fresh tears, catching him off-guard. 

“I’m so tired, Minho. And I’m so frustrated and mad and sad. Is it possible to f-feel all these things at once?" You hiccup, burying your face into his hoodie, soaking it in tears. 

“It is,” he hums gently, “Do you think it’d help if you talked to a therapist?” He feels you tense up beneath the comforter. “Only if you want to, on your own terms.”

“I’ll think about it,” you whisper. 

“Of course,” he says. “Try to sleep again, mm?”

“I don’t think I can,” you chuckle quietly, wiping your tears away with the sleeves of your cardigan. “Do you have work tomorrow?” you ask.

“I do.”

“What do you work as?” 

“Computer programming. I’m also a dance teacher on the side,” he adds quietly, feeling a bit vulnerable at revealing this bit about himself again.

“How do you manage both?” you ask in awe and he shrugs.

 “My IT job leaves me a lot of free time. And I’ve always loved dance, so it doesn’t really feel like a job, you know?”

“Mm, you must work very hard at it. That’s why your body’s so toned,” you say almost absentmindedly, as Minho lets out a surprised chuckle at your words. 

“You think my body is toned?”

“I mean- I didn’t ogle you I just… you know, you wear these fitted shirts it’s hard not to notice your muscles and-"

"You are sick and yet you’re staring at my body?” he tsks. “I feel used.”

“Hey,” you hit him with the hoodie he gave you. “Forget I said anything,” you pout. 

“It’s okay, I work very hard for these, thank you very much,” he flexes slightly, and genuine laughter bubbles up from you both. This might be the one thing he misses the most. 

You both quiet down, silence filling the room once again, but it isn’t awkward, it’s comfortable, almost as if you're the same person he's always known.  

“What’s your favorite color?” you suddenly ask. 

“Purple.”

“Did my favorite color change over this past year?”

“No,” he chuckles, “it’s still that obnoxious orange.”

“It’s not obnoxious, it’s peculiar.”

“it’s weird and it hurts my poor eyes,” he whines, covering his face as if wounded by the mere thought of it. 

“Hey, what if it can hear us and now you just hurt its feelings?”

“Colors have feelings now?” he asks, amused.

“Everything has feelings,” you nod matter-of-factly.

“Okay then think of the feelings of this bed we are both squishing with our weights.”

“Don’t say that. Now I’m sad for it,” you pat the comforter gently, a slight pout tugging at your lips. 

“I think you should sleep,” he smiles and you fake a gasp. “Is my convo boring you?” 

“Yes. Now sleep, Yn,” he brings the comforter up your body, sliding away from the bed. “You’ll be okay, right?”

“Can you… can you sleep here too? I saw the inflatable mattress in the storage room. If that’s not… too much to ask for.”

"Of course not. I'll be back." 

"Thank you, Minho" you smile, lower lip slightly quivering. "Thank you for not being mad at me."

Just how many cracks can one heart bear before breaking beyond repair? Minho thinks he's close to finding out. 

Day 6.

The lights of your dreams have returned, but they are no longer comforting, nor warm, they glare harshly, searing your eyes as they announce your impending doom. Each second draws out in slow-motion and you find yourself counting the breaths you inhale, fearing they may be your last. One in, one out, one in, one out. The moment you dreaded unfolds- the truck collides with your car, flipping it upside down.

However, this time, flames rage within. You know that your car wasn't burned, but they feel terrifyingly tangible as they latch onto your skin. The heat becomes unbearable, you are no longer sure that this is just a mere dream. You try to scream but smokey air fills your lungs instead, robbing you of your ability to speak.

You need to wake up. You need someone to rouse you from this nightmare. Minho. You try to utter his name, but it escapes your lips in a strangled whisper. The lights won.

A cool hand clasps your own, yanking you from the fiery dream, dissolving it like sugar in a hot cup of tea. You startle awake to find Minho hovering over you, brows knitted in concern, his hand tenderly cradling yours.

“Are you okay? Another bad dream?” he inquires and you sigh in response, nodding as your head falls back onto the pillow.

He brushes your hair back, some damp strands still clinging to your sweaty forehead. "You screamed my name. Was I in your nightmare?” he ventures carefully, afraid he was one of the sources of your fear.

“No, I… I thought of you, in my dream,” you reassure, although your words seem to have the opposing effect, making Minho pause in his tracks. You’ve noticed his habit of freezing around you as if needing time to process what you just said. You wonder if you’ve ever came to learn the meaning behind each of his silences, what his blinks convey in ways his tongue fails to.

“You are heating up,” he clears his throat, pressing his hand against your forehead. “Do you wanna shower? I’ll make you tea meanwhile.”

“Okay, yeah. I’d like that,” you nod, glancing at your phone- 3.47 a.m.

Twenty minutes later, you find Minho sitting on the inflatable bed, legs crossed, two steaming mugs of tea before him. He appears drowsy, eyes shutting and reopening as if fending off slumber. It’s almost an endearing sight- the way his bangs fall before his eyes, obstructing his vision, the sleeves of his pullover dangling over his hands, hiding them from your view. He brought the mattress without you asking him to. The attention brings a smile to your face.

“Hi,” you greet softly and Minho looks up, a tender smile on his face. “Hey. Here is your tea.”

“Thank you,” you beam at him, settling on the edge of your bed, legs crisscrossed to mirror his. “I’m sorry that I woke you up.”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t really asleep, just resting my eyes.”

“Isn't that what sleep is?” you snort and he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“I was still conscious, you know. I can’t really sleep these days.”

“Is the couch uncomfortable?” you ask, worried, fidgeting with your lower lip.

“It’s not the couch,” he says as his eyes lock on yours, a stare so intense it forces you to look down at your cup. ‘it’s you’, you read in his gaze. You have no answer for that.

“What's your favorite food?” you suddenly wonder.

“Pudding.”

“But that’s dessert?”

“I really like the one you used to make me.”

“I cooked for you? and you liked it?” you giggle. “I’m not really good at it, usually.”

“I taught you some basic skills,” he smirks, raising his eyebrows proudly at you.

“Too bad your effort is now wasted.”

“It’s not a waste if it was done with love,” he pauses, licking his lips. “And I remember it.”

A bittersweet fog shrouds the air- he remembers that memory, but you don’t. Perhaps you will never bridge that gap, no matter how much you want to. The room in your heart may remain forever locked, the gateway to that chamber brimming with your stolen memories. Maybe you're condemned to merely stand before the closed door, straining to hear the echoes of the love that resonates behind, forever just out of reach.

You don’t fall asleep again that night. And as Minho’s quiet snores fill the room, you rummage your mind in search of a pudding recipe, hoping to retrieve the memory he spoke of so tenderly, shaky hands holding his mug tightly. Silent tears trail down your cheeks and you try your best to stifle the sound of your cries. 

You want to make pudding. You want to make him pudding so badly.

Day 7.

It’s been a week since you woke up anew. Seven days adrift in a vast sea where waves of your memories lap at the shores of your mind, unable to breach the walls guarding your recollections of the past year.

Minho took you to the hospital for your weekly check-up. He sat by your side as the doctor reassured you that your ribs were healing relatively well, but you still needed time to recover, time for your body to mend, time for your memories to return. You loathed the waiting, the wasted days slipping through your fingers. You wanted a now. 

But you kept all these thoughts to yourself, thanking the doctor as he exited the room. 

Minho rented a bicycle to drive you around since the thought of being in a car made your anxiety spike. He installed a little seat for you, in that bright, obnoxious orange color you love very dearly. The sight of it nearly brought tears to your eyes this morning.

Minho idly pedaled around, choosing a scenic route, one he knew by heart from the looks of it. You closed your eyes, savoring the last sun rays of the year. Autumn was fading, winter clawing its way into the seasons slowly. You weren’t sure you could handle both the cold and the grief.

Miho took time off work for your doctor's appointment, and you both spent the day around one another, side by side on the couch, a new book in your hands, and an anime playing on the TV for Minho. 

You could see him casting occasional, nervous glances in your direction, as you flipped the pages of the book. You didn’t understand why at first.

But then you did.

You only brought it up at night, when it was past 2 a.m. and you knew that Minho wasn’t sleeping either, the screen of his phone illuminating his face. He left the inflatable mattress in the room, no longer waiting for a nightmare to occur. You weren’t complaining. You desperately needed company.

“Minho,” you call out gently.

“Mm?”

“How did we meet?”

You can hear Minho suck in a deep breath at your question, before placing his phone down, the only light source in the room fizzling out. It made talking easier that way, when only your voices were heard, carried around, as if emitting from two entities that weren’t you both.

“We met… near your old apartment block. I was going to the kimbap place near yours, you remember that one, right?” 

You hum in response.

“And I saw you crying, crouching near an injured cat. Some car had run over her leg, and she couldn’t walk anymore. And you didn’t know what to do, so I helped you. You insisted on coming with me to the vet where I take my cats. So, we caught a cab. And you were so worried, you didn’t stop crying, so the cab driver thought I did something to you,” he chuckles faintly.

“Then, the vet put a cast on her leg and reassured us that she’d be okay. And I told him I’d take her home and bring her for check-ups. But you were so worried, you begged me to send you updates about the cat. So, you gave me your number. And we talked.”

“What happened to the cat?”

“I took her to a rescue store I trusted since I couldn’t take her in. and we still visited her from time to time. And then, she found a good family.”

“And what happened to us?” you inquire softly, hoping that if your voice was quiet enough then your question wouldn't hurt Minho as much. 

“We kept in touch," he said. "And it was… easy to talk to you, I felt as if I had known you for my entire life. When you found out I had three cats, we Facetimed a lot so you’d see them, but then we just kept on calling, every day, for nearly two weeks. Being with you felt natural, you know? I didn’t overthink it. I never did."

“And then three weeks later you came over to see Soonie, Dori, and Doongie. We ended up watching three movies in a row, and you were so tired you slept on my couch.”

“That’s embarrassing,” you chuckle.

"Yes," he laughs and you reach over to swat his shoulder playfully. "But it was also cute, and endearing. Then you came over a lot, and we just cooked together. Well, I cooked and you watched.”

“Right, that sounds more like me," you instantly agree. 

“We hung outside too, whenever one of us had free time. We had a lot of common hobbies and interests so we never ran out of things to talk about. We made time for each other too.”

“How did we start dating?”

“You made the first move.”

“I did?” you shoot up from your place, hissing when the abrupt movement causes a twinge of pain in your ribs.

“Take it easy,” he giggles, as he illuminates your face with his flashlight. “You did.”

“Did you put a spell on me? I swore I’d never make a first move again after I was rejected in third grade. That was my most sacred oath."

“Well… you were ranting about this book. The one you were reading today,” he adds, and your excitement fizzles out, as the pieces of the puzzle finally fall into place. “You were sad because you had no one to talk to about it. So, I bought the book and read it. I gave you my copy, complete with highlighted passages and notes. And when I did… you kissed me, without warning,” his voice is softer now, as he fiddles with the tip of his blushing ears. "You said it was the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for you.”

“It was. It is,” you whisper, heart caught in your throat. “I saw the photograph of us both lodged between the pages of the book. Did we take it that day?”

“Yes, we weren’t dating, not yet. Because I told you I wanted to take you out on a proper date. But you wanted us to take a picture holding the book… So you’d remember.”

“So I'd remember,” you repeat, voice quivering. What good was it for in the end?

 “I looked so happy in the photograph,” you whisper, tears welling up your eyes. “I looked so happy with you,” your voice breaks as you utter that last part. "Did I love you, Minho?"

"You did," he nods softly, blinking away his own tears. 

“And did you love me?”

“I did. I still do, very much.”

“Thank you, for loving me. It sounds like I’ve lived a happy year with you.”

Minho's pain is akin to a polite guest; it lingers by the corner, speaking in whispers, hardly ever raising its voice. You'd never really notice it, unless you strain your ears, as you're doing now. Only then would you discern the tremors of his quiet sobs- broken, stifled, determined not to make themselves known, only escaping his lips when he thinks you've fallen asleep. 

Day 8.

Whenever an overwhelming emotion ran freely along the corridors of your soul, you'd often find yourself curled in a fetal position, knees drawn to your chest, like a fragile leaf.

Your teacher once explained that it reminds us of safer times in the wombs of our mothers, when the cruelty of life hasn’t yet reached us. 

It is the way you’re resting now, upon the cold, hardwood floor, dozens of books surrounding you. You decided to go through each book in Minho’s library, the need to satiate your curiosity overtaking you. You didn’t know what you were looking for, exactly. Other photographs, surely, in the hopes that one of them would spark up your memory, ignite the flame of remembrance. 

What you didn’t expect was to find Minho talking to you through books. Within the pages, amid the words, scribbled in small, dainty handwriting, threads of his thoughts all relating to you. Quotes he thought you’d appreciate, highlighted segments that reminded him of you. And dedications, so many dedicated lines you felt like you could drown in them. It felt as if Minho was on a quest to find love within every line, only to inscribe your name beside it.

Putting down the last book, you were left with a huge void, akin to a black hole eating away at your heart. So, you laid on the floor, one arm underneath your head, knees held tightly to your chest- as if trying to create borders for your sadness, to stop it from spilling out of your body, drowning the house in even more sorrow. Those four walls have had enough, more than they could contain. And so did you.

You suddenly longed for the very beginning of your life, when time was but a tranquil stream, when you were unaware of the hurtful years it would carve into your existence. Back to when your spine was still curled around itself; for it was never meant to be straightened. Your spine was never strong enough to bear your pain. 

You wanted to talk to someone, but you didn’t know who you could turn to. You didn’t know how to articulate these emotions into words, tangible enough for someone to understand them. And you couldn’t talk to Minho about it, not when he was hurting on his own. 

Because he smiled down at his cats, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. His laughter echoed around the room when he talked to his friends on the phone. And sometimes, he even hummed under his breath while making you breakfast. But this happiness never reached his eyes, behind his pupils the sadness seared itself into his veins, casting a gloomy shadow that followed him everywhere he went. It was a palpable ache, one that filled the very atmosphere with the metallic taste of grief. Making it almost impossible for you to breathe in. Even more so when you remember it was all your fault.

These are the thoughts that haunted you all day, as they have been doing for the past week. Minho must have noticed that you were feeling gloomier than usual, a silent storm raging by his side, since he put up a romcom for you. “It made you laugh a lot when you watched it months ago.”

“How do you remember all of these things about me?” you ponder, scratching the fragile skin near your nails, easily torn, just like you. 

“Does it make you uncomfortable? Should I stop?” he asks quietly, deflecting your question.

“No,” you say the truth. “It'd be weird if you were an actual stranger, but… you knew me. And I knew you. and I still feel safe around you.” 

He nods silently, but something in his gaze compels you to keep talking. 

“I mean, I never felt uncomfortable around you these days, which surprised me too. I just… I suppose that even if my mind doesn’t remember, my heart does, in a way?”

“My heart will always remember you,” he whispers, gaze adrift in a faraway memory. 

A gear shifts in your mind, a sudden light flooding your vision. You find yourself within a grand canopy bed, its pure white curtains swaying to the rhythm of a whimsical breeze, their delicate fabric brushing lightly against your cheek. It’s slightly cold from the wide-open windows, but then it’s warm, as a gentle hand finds its place on your thigh, kindling an ember deep within, setting your very soul ablaze. 

The curtains sway with the wind, obscuring your view, but you can still discern the sound of your laughter, echoing like distant chimes. And a tenderness, so delicate it seemed almost otherworldly, trailing along your skin, as warmth caresses your cheek and gently traverses the curve of your collarbones, peppering it with the softest kisses. You can't quite behold it, but it is unmistakably there, an ineffable presence that threatens to burst your heart at the seams—a memory of your love for Minho.

It is a blurry sight, like peering into a worn-out photograph, its details softened by the sands of time. But you clutch to it- to your fading laughter and hushed conversation, and then your voice ringing clearly in your mind, the promise you made to Minho. 

'My heart will always remember you'. 

You startle back in a jolt; the light and warmth have extinguished. They are now dull, withered down, sitting next to you with their head hung low. 

It takes you an inhumane effort to swallow down the lump in your throat.

Day 16.

This week has been particularly cold. Not temperature-wise, October has always harbored these same frigid temperatures and you've gotten used to them, to the relentless winds brushing against your skin. Only this time they pierced right through your soul instead.

You knew what had changed. You had felt the sadness, the frustration, the guilt- all blending into one sorrowful symphony, pulling at your heartstrings the way one does to a harp. Yet, amid these familiar emotions, a new feeling loomed large this past week- anxiety.

It arrived in sudden, icy bursts, cold beads of perspiration cascading down your spine, feet suddenly freezing no matter how fuzzy your socks were- the physical telltales, then came the emotional ones. The shadows of dread, for we fear the unseen more than that which we can touch. The growing panic gnawing at your heart, hinting that something profoundly disastrous lurked on the horizon.

Anxiety held you suspended in the air, bound by invisible ropes that compelled you to watch from above as the days drifted past you. You were a ghost haunting an empty shell, hollow and resonant with anxiety's clang, akin to an empty can's descent to the ground.

Your appetite had fled, leaving you alone to grapple with the chore of feeding yourself, mechanically ingesting food only to pacify Minho’s concerned gaze. The TV’s volume blared, since you desperately needed the voices of other people to invade your mind, to render your thoughts merciless, forcing them to put their sword-like tongues down.

And the exhaustion, not accounted to your broken ribs, for Minho had meticulously overseen their recovery. It was an emotional fatigue, a weariness that clung to your every breath, trapping them within your ribcage, far beyond their time, until they tethered on the brink of exploding in your lungs- a supernova of darkness devouring your essence. Only then did the breaths release their hold on you.

So, you patiently awaited the inevitable unraveling, because you knew this wasn’t an ordinary anxiety. Your soul whispered to you in a language your mind could no longer translate, throbbing with a message you couldn’t quite recollect, striving urgently to jog your memory of a monumental truth.

But you didn’t remember– you should have.

You should've known it was Minho’s birthday.

It is near midnight when you venture out of your room, the inflatable bed by your side unusually vacant. A dim glow draws you to the kitchen, and as you stand by its entrance, an intensified cold grips you. It chills the blood in your veins, transforming it into splintered shards that prick uncomfortably beneath your skin.

Minho is sitting by the table, a small, muted cake before him, a shoebox by his side. A solitary candle flickers in front of his face, casting elongating shadows on his chiseled features. The flame is about to fizzle out- you feel like your heart will closely follow suit.

"Minho..." you call out gently, careful not to startle him from the trance ensnaring him. He doesn't react to the sound of your voice.

"Minho, I…"

"Today was my birthday."

His tone is cold, like the darkening clouds before a stormy night. His words feel like lightning bolts piercing your core.

"It would be stupid to blow this candle out, wouldn't it? Because you and I both know my wish won't come true. Maybe it never will. And it's killing me, yn." His voice quivers as it utters your name, a slight shake taking over his lips. His cheeks are tear stained- glimmering reflections under the golden flame. You've never seen him this sad. You don't know how to comfort him in his sadness.

A rush of nausea overwhelms your being, a yearning to expel every emotion, methodically, until your heart transforms into a tranquil organ, solely pulsing life's crimson essence through your frame. Nothing more, nothing less.

"This shoe box is yours. You kept it under the bed, filled it with everything that reminded you of me. You told me..." he pauses, taking in a deep breath. "You told me that you wanted to remember everything about us, every single detail. But I... I don't care if you don't remember every date we went to. I just-" his forehead rests on his palm, as he squeezes his eyes shut. "I just want you to remember that you love me."

Hot tears are rolling across his cheeks, splattering across the table like a broken mosaic. He doesn't try to hide them or wipe them away. He's had enough.

"Minho, I’m-"

"I mean- that's not too much to ask for, right?" he finally lifts his head, locking his eyes with yours. A black abyss, a dark void. You are the one who sucked out all the light.

"You- you said you loved me. And I- I felt it, y/n, when you looked at me, when you touched me. I felt it, it wasn't- it wasn't just words, I-" he pauses, running a hand through his hair, tugging at his black locks furiously. "You loved me," his voice breaks. "Why- why can't you remember that you loved me?"

Your tongue bursts to flame in your mouth, its grey ashes choking you from within. What could you even say? How do you stop the bleeding of a heart when you carry knives for fingers?

Minho abruptly stands up, his chair scraping loudly across the floor. "We talked about marriage, a-about kids, you said- you said you'd choose me to be the father of your children, you said you wanted a big house w-with me and you-” he points at you, chest heaving, eyes rimmed red. “You said you wanted us to sit at the patio when we're eighty and you wanted us to hold hands still," he chuckles bitterly, his arms falling limp by his side incredulously. "And now you don't even remember me."

He grabs the box, rummaging through its contents furiously. "You see this?" he waves dried flowers before your eyes, their petals falling to the floor from the force of his agitation. "These are the flowers I got you for our first date. You dried them and put them here because you- you said you wanted to preserve it, to remember."

"And this, the cinema tickets from our first movie date. You were so tired you just slept on my shoulder all the time and then I- I carried you home and you kissed me." He's growing more frantic, rifling through the shoe box in a frenzy. You remain rooted by the kitchen's entrance, a sense of powerlessness holding you captive, an unbreakable vice around your being.

"This is the napkin from our favorite cat café, and look," he grabs your hand, clammy palm pressed to yours, pulling you toward the table." This is the receipt of the first time we went grocery shopping together and-" he waves it in the air, before slamming it onto the table. "And, you e-even kept this stupid rock I gave you right before I told you I love you for the first time, because you said it was the happiest day of your life, my god Yn how can you not remember?"

A broken, sob-laden chuckle escapes his lips, a sound so heart wrenchingly human, so painfully poignant that for an instant, it fills you with a bitter aversion to your own humanity- it was never meant to inflict this much pain upon someone else.

Your thoughts shatter as Minho tenderly cups your face, urging you to confront his turbulent gaze. He seeks something within your eyes, and you desperately hope he'd find it, whatever it may be, anything to stop the tremor in his hands as they anchor you in place.

"Why did you- why did you keep all of this if not to remember me.” He asks, unblinking, lip quivering. “Please, please, remember me, just- just try, okay?"

"I’m so sorry-"

"No. No. Don't- don't apologize like it's final like you could never love me again," his hands glide to your shoulders, shaking you slightly in place. "Don't you understand? I-I don't want an apology I want you to remember me."

"Minho..."

"Just look through this, it's our happiest memories y/n, okay?" he let goes of you, circling the table before shoving the box into your hands. He smiles- attempts to, it is an unnatural presence amidst his tears, so out of place it sends shivers down your spine. "Look at it, yn, please," he pleads as your hold on the box falters. "I can’t remember us alone. I’m crushing under the weight of everything we lived it’s exhausting me!"

His voice ascends pitch, the end of his words hanging into the air, searing themselves into the particles you breathe. His voice leaves a painful echo on his trail. You’re exhausting him.

You put the box down, taking three cautious step forwards.

And then you hug Minho.

He can't even hold you back, body trembling with the sobs rippling through him as soon as your chest presses to his. He sinks to the floor and you follow suit, arms enfolding his concaved shoulders tightly, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "Im sorry, I'm so sorry Minho. I- I wish I could remember."

You want the kitchen to collapse upon itself. There is too much grief in such a small room- it stains the walls like blood droplets, absorbs his cries like a saturated sponge.

You don’t think you could ever sit at this table again.

He finally clasps your back, drawing you even nearer to him. "Can- can you pretend, just today, please? For my birthday. Pretend you still love me."

"Of course. It's okay, I’m here, honey. I'm here."

"I love you. I love you so much," he whispers, lips pressed against your neck. "And it hurts to love you, so much." He brings your hand to his heart. "It hurts so much right here."

He doesn't let go of your hand, softly caressing your knuckles. His breath hitches as his thumb hovers over your ring finger. "I... I was going to propose, you know? I even bought the ring, stored it away for when the time is right. Do you think you would have remembered if you woke up wearing it?"

He knows your answer would've been yes. You know that too, in the matching cat mugs and the book annotations and the way Minho gently held your face, even in the depths of his despair. Everywhere you look, your answer echoes back- yes, the home chants in unison, that's what you would've said. Yes, yes, yes.

Day 17.

In the cracks of concrete sidewalks, tenacious flowers manage to sprout. Just how in the depths of Minho’s pain, small joys bloomed, nestled in the vacant spaces between you and him. 

You'd greet him each time he opened the door, your voice resonating through the apartment like the sweetest sonnet. And he would always pause by the doorknob, basking in the sound of your voice that hadn’t changed in the slightest. Your tone still held that same dulcet timber, a golden honey that once dripped freely upon his soul. 

But today, Minho swung open the door and an eerie hush greeted him instead. He ventured in, calling after you, only to be met with utter silence. He anxiously checked the rooms, opening the doors hastily one by one. But you weren't there. You weren't home. 

Minho felt the familiar tendrils of worry coiling around his heart, constricting it with each passing moment. He quickly grabbed his phone, dialing your number, only to fall into your voicemail, the robotic voice chilling him to the core.

In the past two weeks, you had made sure to text Minho each time you went outside- a precaution you took due to your fractured ribs which came with frequent fits of dizziness. It was a safety measure for one person, at least, to know where you are. 

But you didn't text him today. And he had no idea where you might’ve gone to. 

Minho tried to suck in a deep breath, willing the fear to relinquish its icy grip on his body so he could think properly. Maybe you had simply forgotten, he reasoned. Yet, he knew that you never back out on your promises. They were sacred for you since they were once senselessly broken.

For the second time in a mere three weeks, Minho’s deepest fears unfurl like a nightmare before him, ensnaring him in a tapestry woven with the bloody threads of everything that went wrong yesterday. 

He carried his shame akin to heavy bricks on his shoulders, causing them to hunch forward- a coward, leaving the house before you even rose, and on his trail, your breakfast and a hastily written note. He couldn’t fathom eating at that kitchen table with you, not when his sobs still echoed around those sage walls, as did your quiet voice as you tried to soothe his cries, holding him between your tender arms. 

Minho was scared. He was terrified you’d never come back home after everything that had happened, the words he said and the way he pleaded, nearly at your feet, consumed by a sadness grander than anything he’s ever known. 

So, he storms out of the apartment in a hurry, scouring the nearby playground. But you aren’t there. The grocery store is next, the library, the flower shop, the cat café tucked in a corner that you may have stumbled on. 

You were still nowhere to be found.

A dreadful sense of foreboding overcame him, akin to how he felt when his phone rang two weeks prior- the unfamiliar number of the hospital shining before his eyes. What if something happened to you, a fit of dizziness but no one was around to help? Life doesn’t grant you a second chance. No one has ever brushed against death’s shoulder twice and lived to tell the tale. What if he receives another call? 

He couldn’t survive another call.  

Minho stands in the midst of the road, clutching his head with a tight grip, desperately searching his memory for the places that once brought you solace during the months he spent knowing you. However, he quickly remembers that you no longer know of those places.

So where could you have gone? 

An epiphany dawns upon Minho- the bridge you had pointed out to him from a distance on one of your walks, the first place you claimed as your own in the city. It towered above the ocean, suspended several meters in the air. He couldn't accompany you there that day, bound by a paralyzing fear of heights.

He prays with all his might that he's right. 

He dashes towards the bridge akin to a madman, the desperate rhythm of his pounding feet mirroring the urgency in his heart. It looms tantalizingly close, a mere 15 minutes away, and Minho, in a state of disarray, knows he's not fit to drive right now. He was never fond of running, he didn't enjoy the searing ache in his lungs, robbing him of his ability to breathe. But he welcomes the pain today- it means that he's running fast enough to reach you. He hopes, he prays.

Minho spots you from a distance, a mere silhouette standing at the bridge's edge, your figure unmistakable with the red scarf tightly wound around your neck. Relief nearly brings him to his knees - you're alive.

Minho doesn't think as he sprints to you, eyes solely focused on you and not the void beneath his feet.

"Yn!" he calls out from afar, and you startle, snapping your head back to look at him. He wonders what he must look at you, disheveled hair, the wind knocking down his jean jacket. But he doesn't care. 

Minho stands before you without pause, instantly pulling you into the shelter of his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling the familiar smell of your shampoo, a constant through the months of knowing you. He clings to it, to the familiarity of your scent and the way your heartbeat seems to pour from your body to his, speaking in a language only your souls can comprehend. His arms clutch at you tightly, rugged breaths escaping his body, dew tears gathering in his eyes and dropping down your shoulders. 

Your arms hang limp by your side, confusion etched across your face at the urgency, the frenzy in which he pulled you to his chest, an emotion you hadn’t known in him in these past weeks.

You tentatively raise your hands, patting his back slowly. "Minho, what’s wrong?" you whisper, and he shakes his head.

"You weren't home. I- I thought something happened to you." 

"No, I just went on a walk and lost track of time," you reassure him and he pulls away, warm hands cradling your cheeks. 

"You're okay, right? Tell me you're okay," he pleads and you smile, nodding your head. “I'm okay, don’t worry.” 

Minho drops your face, embarrassment flooding his being at his outburst. It morphs to panic as he realizes the expanse beneath—nothing but the vast ocean, the wind slamming into his body, making him lose his footing.

"Are... you okay?" you ask cautiously. "Minho, you're shaking," you point out, a frown tugging at your lips. "Are you cold?" 

He stays silent, unable to place a word beyond the stutter of his lips. 

"Here," you hurriedly unwrap your red scarf, enclosing it around his neck. "You're shivering, Minho," you grab his hands, rubbing his fingers, blowing warmth into them, an attempt to kindle fire into him.

"I'm not- not cold. I- I’m scared of heights," he admits through a stutter, eyes tightly closed. 

"Then why are you here?" You ask, surprised. 

"Because you are." 

His confession comes out quietly, softened by the blow of his fear. His eyes remain closed, missing the tears gathering in your eyes, the ones you swiftly try to blink away. 

"Let's go, just keep your eyes closed. Hold my hand," you entwine your fingers with his, squeezing it lightly to signal you're there, as you walk across the bridge. 

You don't let go until you finally regain solid ground. 

"You're safe. you can open your eyes," you say quietly. 

"You're okay, right?" he inquires again, stepping closer.

"Why are you asking me this when you're the one shaking?" you chuckle, almost exasperated, nothing funny in the sound.

"I was worried about you, and I thought you left… after yesterday."

"Why would you- My god Minho why would you even come running across this bridge? Why would you do something like that when you're afraid?"

"Because I love you," his voice is resolute, soft as a whisper, as he states a simple truth. It only makes yours reach new heights.

"But why- why do you love me? Why would you still love me after everything I put you through?" 

"You didn't put me through anything," he shakes his head, and you take a step back, facing away from him. He can see your body heaving up and down, the weight of unspoken words making your heartbeat race. And then you snap. 

"You broke down yesterday," you pivot back, pointing at his chest. "You broke down in my arms because of me. Why would you still love me after all this Minho I don't- I don't understand." 

"I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I know I probably made you uncomfortable and I shouldn't have asked something like that out of you-" 

"No, no, Minho, you don't understand, you shouldn't apologize, I should. I’m the one who hurt you-"

"You didn't hurt me. It's something out of your control, you didn't choose this." 

“Stop- just stop being so nice and understanding for a minute. I don’t deserve it!" you shout exasperated, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. "You can't look me in the eyes half of the time you can't even fucking breathe in your own home. It's now a- a cemetery for our memories and it'll soon become yours too because I suck the life out of you, can't you see that?" 

"I'm not asking you to remember me,” he holds his hands up, in surrender, “I was wrong yesterday, you don't have to remember us." 

"There is no us!” you yell, hands thrown in the air, “Not anymore, Minho, maybe never."

You suck in a deep breath, shutting your eyes, willing your voice to ebb and flow into calmness. 

"I thought about it. It'll hurt less if you don't see me, time will pass and you'll get used to it, I'm not worth this."

"You are,” he interjects. “You don't get to pick for me, Yn." 

"Stop- stop talking like this is normal, stop being so complacent with your pain, Minho you shouldn't love someone who hurts you!"

"Then make me stop loving you. Spare me. Tear open my heart and bleed it dry at your feet or else it won't stop beating for you. Don't you understand? If you are near or if you are far, I will still love you. The only difference is that I'd worry more about you. I'd worry if you're eating, I'd worry if you're taking your medicine, I'd worry if you're drinking out of your favorite cup or if you have a spare shampoo in your drawer because you hate running out of it. I'd worry out of my fucking mind, Yn don't leave." 

It had been an encompassing sadness that made his true feelings surge yesterday, breaching the myriad of cracks in his heart. But today, it was fear that cast a revealing light upon his feelings, hidden in the recesses of his being. They surged forth in a transparency you were still not used to, the way the ocean throws on its shores the debris of sunken ships, allowing the grieving families of sailors to finally discover the terrible truth.

Still, his honesty, his soul bare at your mercy isn’t enough to make you stay.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I just... I can't- I'm sorry."

You take three steps back, before turning your back to him and walking away. A numbness, like icy talons, seizes his limbs, his gaze fixated on your diminishing figure—carrying away everything he's ever loved. Paralysis envelopes his very essence, a haunting realization that the distance between you is more than a mere physical space. You're vanishing beyond the horizon of his reach, slipping through his desperate grasp. The fear of never seeing you again fractures the stillness, snapping Minho out of his trance.

"To love someone is firstly to confess, I'm prepared to be devastated by you." He shouts, making you pause in your tracks. "Isn't that your favorite quote, Yn? You told me this is what love is about. To place your heart in the palm of the person you love. And your hands are soft, Yn. I don't mind if I'm bruised by them." 

"I lied then!” You yell back, tears cascading down your cheeks akin to a waterfall, “Belcourt lied and I lied when I told you this and when I promised that I'd always remember you in that canopy bed-"

"What did you just say?” Minho quickly walks to you, chest heaving. “What canopy bed?"

“It doesn't matter now,” you speak in a small voice, avoiding his eyes, seeking refuge in the ground beneath. Yet, Minho, gentle and determined, cups your face, guiding your gaze to meet his.

“It matters to me, Yn, please. What do you mean?"

“We were in that white canopy bed, when I told you that my heart would always remember you.” 

“We were,” he whispers, eyes glazed over as the memory washes over him too. “Did you remember?”

“Not clearly, it was really hazy in my mind. But I remember that the windows were open, I was supposed to feel cold but… your hands on me, and they were warm. And I…” you suck in a deep breath and Minho smiles encouragingly, running his thumb in a tender caress across your cheek. 

“I remember feeling that I loved you,” you finally confess. “Even though I couldn’t see you. That's why I said that I'd always remember you. Because you filled every chamber in my heart, so much that it'd still hold your name even if you left it…that's how I felt.” You pause, as Minho forcibly swallows the lump down his throat. 

“But it didn't unlock any new memories and I-”

“It's okay, it’s okay. You still remembered,” he smiles and the gesture brings you to his lips, rosy, plump. Were they still as warm? Still as soft? 

“I did…” you trail off. “You also kissed me, in my memory. Your lips were everywhere and… they were soft.” You add quietly, eyes fixated on his mouth, the smile that once adorned it slipping away. 

A tentative warmth courses through your being, a subtle blaze that ignites your cheeks in a shade of crimson. In this moment, a need unfurls within you, a yearning that eclipses the delicate boundaries of restraint. The memory of his lips on your skin becomes a beacon, standing tall amidst the tumultuous winds of uncertainty. You want to taste the warmth again. You want to kiss Minho.

“I kissed you.” His hands, once gentle on your cheeks, now slip down with purpose, cradling your jaw in a gesture that speaks of both reassurance and longing.

“You did.” 

“And my lips were soft,” he repeats, his red scarf brushing against your throat. 

"They were," you respond, breathless. His mouth stands electrifyingly close, a mere hairbreadth away, as you contemplate the simple act of tilting your head, closing the tantalizing gap. All that stands between you and the echoes of the love that was is the lift of your head, a movement that could breathe life into the dormant embers of your heart.

"Yn," Minho speaks softly, his words a gentle brush against the canvas of your shared vulnerability. His minty breath tickles your nose, as you hum, a wordless acknowledgment that hangs in the air. Your eyes remain closed, your heart beating loudly in your ears, drowning out the sound of the waves nearby.

“Use me. Use me to remember.”

[risalei-nur]

The Words - The Thirty-third  Word - Part 12

EIGHTH WINDOW: The testimony of all Prophets, upon them be peace, (those people with luminous spirits), based on their manifest and evident miracles; the testimony of all saints (those distinguished with illumined hearts), relying on their wonder-working and spiritual discoveries; and the testimony of all purified scholars (those with enlightened minds), relying on their research and quest for truth, all testify to the necessary Existence and Unity of One, the Creator of all things, and His Power’s perfection. They form a vast and enlightening window through which His Lordship—sustaining, training, raising, etc.—shows Itself continually.

Who do you rely on so that you do not heed those people? Or, by clos- ing your eyes in the daytime, do you imagine the world to be in darkness?

NINTH WINDOW

l The worship of all beings shows an Absolutely Worshipped One. As testified by those who penetrate the world of spirits and the inner dimension of things, where they meet with angels and spirit beings, all angels and spirit beings worship an Eternally Worshipped One in perfect obedience. We all observe that all living beings perform duties in perfect order in a manner resembling worship, and that all inanimate things render services with perfect submission in a like manner. All of this shows the necessary Existence and Unity of an All-Worshipped One, Who is absolutely worthy of worship.

[cheerfullycatholic]

Angelus, December 17th 2024

Dear brothers and sisters, buongiorno!

Today, the Third Sunday of Advent, the Gospel speaks to us about John the Baptist’s mission (cf. Jn 1:6-8, 19-28), indicating that he is the prophet sent by God to “testify to the light” (v. 8). Let us reflect on this: to testify to the light.

Testimony. The Baptist is certainly an extraordinary man. The people flock to listen to him, attracted by his consistent and sincere way of being (cf. vv. 6-7). His testimony comes through his frank language, his honest behaviour, his austerity of life. All this makes him different from other famous and powerful people of that time, who, instead, invested a lot in appearances. People like him – upright, free and courageous – are luminous, fascinating figures: they motivate us to rise above mediocrity and to be in turn models of good living for others. In every age, the Lord sends men and women like this. Do we know how to recognize them? Do we try to learn from their witness, allowing ourselves to be challenged? Or rather, do we allow ourselves to be bedazzled by fashionable people? Then we get caught in artificial behaviour.

John instead is luminous insofar as he testifies to the light. But what is his light? He himself responds when he states clearly to the crowds who had flocked to hear him that he was not the light, that he was not the Messiah (cf. vv. 19-20). The light is Jesus, the Lamb of God, “God who saves”. Only He redeems, frees, heals and enlightens. This is why John is a “voice” who accompanies his brothers and sisters to the Word; he serves without seeking honours or the spotlight: he is a lamp, while the light is the living Christ (cf. vv. 26-27; Jn 5:35)

Brothers and sisters, the example of John the Baptist teaches us at least two things. First, that we cannot save ourselves alone: only in God do we find the light of life. And second, that each of us, through service, consistency, humility, witness of life – and always by God’s grace – can be a lamp that shines and helps others find the way on which to meet Jesus.

So, let us ask ourselves: In the places I live, how can I testify to the light, testify to Christ in the here and now this Christmas, not in the distant future?

May Mary, mirror of holiness, help us be men and women who reflect Jesus, the light who comes into the world.

[grislyintentions]

“ Does it mean anything to you? ” / lumine to ei !

Meme || Accepting || @starsdescent

Pages upon pages of victim testimonials are flipped through as Ei examines each account pensively. Attacks near the rivers, victims being dragged down into the water by their hands and feet, near drowning...

Once she finishes reading the compiled documents, the electro archon extends her hand to return the papers to Lumine.

"I have a theory, yes. But it is one that will require verifying. How much do you know of the 'Kappa'?"

[essektheylyss]

Hi hello, new follower here! I found your tumblr via the “rip, the fix is no longer canon compliant” post and now I’m curious as to what this was in reference to? (aka could you link us to said fic please & thank you)

Hello! Welcome! It is about a fic I wrote last year called what luminous worlds await that somehow did not get jossed by the end of campaign 2.

It's a very funky Essek-centric Champion of the Luxon space fantasy set about a thousand years in the future. There's space travel. People live on the moon. Fjord is the most tired immortal godly champion. From testimonial evidence it somehow endeared a lot of people to second person point of view!

Check it out if you want, do mind the tags (of which 'canon compliant' is officially no longer one), and if that is something you're interested in, hope you enjoy!

[eternal-echoes]

“On this date you commemorate the sacrifice the Swiss Guards made in their strenuous defence of the Pope during the “Sack of Rome”. Today you are not called to this heroic act but to another kind of sacrifice, also demanding: to put your youthful energy at the service of the Church and the Pope. And to do this you need to be strong, motivated by love and sustained by faith in Christ. I am certain that the decision to spend years of your life in the service of the Pope is not foreign to your faith. Rather, the deeper motivations that have impelled you to come to Rome have their origins precisely in your faith. This is a faith that you learned at home, was cultivated in your parishes, and which also manifests the affection that Swiss Catholics have for the Church. Remember it well, the faith that God gave you on the day of Baptism is the most precious treasure that you have! And there your mission to serve the Pope and the Church finds its source in the faith.

During your stay in Rome, you are called to bear witness to your faith with joy and kindness. How important it is for the many people who pass by Vatican City! But it is also important for those who work here at the Holy See, and that goes for me too! Your presence is a sign of the power and beauty of the Gospel, that in every age calls young people to follow it. And I would like to invite you to live out your time in the “Eternal City” with a spirit of sincere brotherhood, helping one another to lead a good Christian life, one that corresponds to your faith and to your mission in the Church. Take care of one another, support one another when one of you is having a hard time. Be ready to listen, be close at hand. Pray for one another, and put into the practice the mutual help and communion that you draw from Jesus in the Holy Eucharist.

Your specifically ecclesial experience in the Swiss Guard Corps represents a privileged opportunity to deepen your understanding of Christ and of his Gospel and to follow him, almost breathing in, here in Rome, the Catholicity of the Church. Today when some of you swear your fidelity to carry out your service in the Guard, the others will renew the oath in their hearts, know that your service is also a testimony to Christ, who calls you to be authentic human beings and true Christians, be the protagonist of your own existence. Deeply united to him you will know how to face in a mature way the obstacles and the challenges of life, in the firm conviction that, as the Liturgy of the Easter Vigil reminds us, the Risen Lord is the “eternal King who has conquered the darkness of the world”. Only he is the Truth, the Way and the Life.

Dear Swiss Guards, do not forget that the Lord walks with you. This is a good thought that does the soul good: do not forget that the Lord is always working with us, he is always at your side to support you, especially in moments of difficulty and trial. My heartfelt wish for you is that you may always feel the joy and the consolation of his luminous and merciful presence.”

- Pope Francis, TO THE PONTIFICAL SWISS GUARD AND THEIR FAMILY MEMBERS, 06 May 2013

[papirouge]

maybe it’s That Time of Year(tm) again but I keep having these talks with friends about dating or bringing home a guy that isn’t “exactly” Christian.

It’s a bit deceiving to say that Jewish guys and Muslim guys worship the same God differently when Jesus is actively denied His divinity. It’s said that none come before the father except through Him - the son. If you deny him in life, so he will deny you before the father in heaven. If they were interested in becoming Christian that’s one thing but I just feel bad for these girls asking if it’s alright to date these guys when we have the Bible telling us no right here. I also blame society for pushing this on girls to find a guy quickly “before time runs out” when I think it’s better to be single and enter into heaven than partnered and deny Christ together. I’m at this point to where some of then will show me a pic of this guy and I first think “yeah he’s hot!….But does he believe in Christ?”

I'm genuinely confused by the amont of anons I get of them having to deal with friends trying to hook with men of a different faith 🥴 Like, chosing a partner is no joke. Christians usually date with marriage in mind, so what's the point to date a man you're unable to project a long-term relationship with?

And yeah, this whole "all monotheistic have the same God uwu" kumbaya

Though it was true with Jews at some point but since they deny God as their Messiah, the god they worship today is not the same as us bc God can't deny Himself.

As for Muslims, my God DOES NOT allows polygamy, raping children, and beating your wife. Even if I wasn't Christian, Islam would be the last religion I'd pick bc of how messed up it is.

The "find a guy quickly" crap pushed by media doesn't translate in reality. Marriage of older people (in their 30s-40s) are usually longer lasting than those who married young. The reason religious people push for marrying early is because of child bearing. "Before time runs out" is ridiculous lol Time runs out for what? To date a bum who will let me emotionally scarred because I was not ready to pick the right partner yet??

Haven't you noticed people who converted to Christianity become more attractive? Their face is luminous, they emanate joy and happiness (that's particularly very visible with former Muslim testimonies). I want that with my spouse 🤍

[drowsyreaper]

Influencer/Inventor Twilight AU

Hello 4AM. Time for crack concepts.

Alice has the initial idea, but Rosalie is the one who makes it work.

The Cullen’s start a skin care line.

Guaranteed to make your skin positively luminous. Forget filters; you’ll be sparkling in real life! Their promotional videos go viral for how over the top and thematically inconsistent they are. Rosalie has her glamour shots, talking up the actual product. Emmett does increasingly unhinged comedy and prank videos (he has jumped into a vat of glitter more than once just for the hell of it). Jasper gets talked into making thirst trap videos and his voice overs are almost all different philosophical arguments over cosmetics and skin care products. Alice gets human testimonials and Esme is about to start an MLM scheme to help her babies sell their stuff (unnecessary, the family is rich enough to invest in their own start up). If anyone at the hospital notices Carlisle sparkling, well, he’s got all these adopted kids, and it’s a bit silly, but it helps them feel more settled sometimes when everyone is wearing the sparkly skin care stuff and they look alike.

Edward is layering on pancake foundation by the fistful and everyone at school thinks he’s got terrible acne. They keep recommending...skin care products.

[sharath3947]

Bangalore's Premier LED Backlit Sign Boards Manufacturer | Highflyer

Introduction

In the vibrant city of Bangalore, where businesses strive to shine brighter than ever, Highflyer emerges as the ultimate LED Backlit Sign Boards Manufacturer in Bangalore. With a commitment to innovation and a passion for creating captivating signage solutions, Highflyer has become a trusted name in the region.

The Art of Illuminated Branding

Sign boards with LED backlights offer more than mere helpful signage. They're effective branding tools that grab the attention of passersby and make lasting impressions. Highflyer knows the intricacies of illuminated advertisements and blends modern design and technology to provide the best LED-backlit signage that genuinely makes an impact.

Innovative Design and Engineering

The foundation of Highflyer's success lies in its innovative design and engineering process. Highly skilled employees work with customers to fully understand the unique requirements for branding, which they translate into stunning LED-backlit signs that seamlessly integrate with the setting.

Durability and Quality Craftsmanship

Bangalore's dynamic climate poses unique problems for outdoor signage exposed to different climate conditions and environmental elements. Highflyer's LED-backlit signs are designed to withstand these elements and provide lasting performance and stunning visuals.

Customization and Versatility

Whether it's an eye-catching LED backlit sign board for a prominent shopping mall, a sleek and modern design for a corporate office, or a luminous display for a retail establishment, Highflyer, the leading Led Backlit Sign Boards Manufacturer in Bangalore, delivers unmatched capabilities. Their team of experts excels in creating customized LED backlit signboards tailored to each client's specific needs.

Energy-Efficient and Sustainable Solutions

Currently, environmentally conscious business owners are looking for signs that align with their environmental goals. Highflyer keeps on top of the game by incorporating energy-efficient LED technology and environmentally sustainable processes into its manufacturing, which reduces its carbon footprint and delivers premium LED backlit signs.

Comprehensive Services and Support

Highflyer goes beyond just manufacturing its commitment to customers. It offers various other services, such as installations, site surveys, and repair, to assure them they have the best experience from the beginning of an idea to a finished product. Valued clients can seek clarity from the committed team when they have questions or concerns, giving them peace of mind.

Trusted by Leading Brands

Their reputation for high quality has earned the respect of many top brands throughout Bangalore and across the globe. From well-known shopping malls and corporate headquarters to flourishing local enterprises, their extensive portfolio showcases their capacity to create outstanding LED-backlit signs that enhance brand visibility and professional appearance.

Success Stories and Client Testimonials

The true testament to Highflyer's success as the premier Led Backlit Sign Boards Manufacturer in Bangalore lies in their satisfied clients' glowing testimonials and success stories. These real-life experiences highlight the company's dedication to quality, attention to detail, and ability to transform ordinary signage into powerful marketing assets that drive business growth.

The Future of LED Backlit Sign Boards in Bangalore

Despite Bangalore's growth and continued adoption of new trends, Highflyer remains at the top of the line, constantly adjusting to evolving trends while embracing cutting-edge technology. Their dedication to technology ensures that their LED-backlit signs are relevant and memorable, seamlessly mixing form and function to attract audiences and leave an impression.

FAQs (Frequently Asked Questions)

What makes Highflyer's LED backlit sign boards unique?

Highflyer is a unique combination of modern design, modern LED technology, and personalization that produces captivating, illuminated LED backlit signage that can be customized to each customer's specific branding requirements.

How does Highflyer ensure their LED backlit sign boards can withstand Bangalore's climate?

They design their LED backlit signs using robust materials and construction methods that can withstand Bangalore's various weather and environmental conditions.

Does Highflyer offer energy-efficient LED backlit sign board solutions?

Highflyer integrates energy-efficient LED technology and sustainable methods into its manufacturing processes to minimize environmental impacts.

What services does Highflyer provide besides manufacturing?

Highflyer provides various services, such as surveying sites, installation, and maintenance assistance, to ensure an effortless experience.

Has Highflyer worked with well-known brands in Bangalore?

Highflyer's extensive portfolio comprises renowned shopping centres, corporate headquarters, and thriving local companies throughout Bangalore and the surrounding areas.

Conclusion

In Bangalore's dynamic business scene, Highflyer is the premier Led Backlit Sign Boards Manufacturer in Bangalore. Offering a winning combination of creativity, durability, and exceptional customer service, they continue to raise the bar for illuminated advertising, helping businesses make bold statements and stand out from the crowd.

#fabricledboardmanufacturerinbangalore, #ledbacklitsignboardsmanufacturerinbangalore, #ledfabricboxmanufacturerinBangalore, #ledfabriclightboxmanufacturerinbangalore, 

[theskindoctorr]

Yellow Peel Treatment: The Skin Doctor Guide to Transforming Your Skin

Are you tired of dealing with dull, uneven skin tone and texture? Do you find yourself constantly battling breakouts and hyperpigmentation? If so, you may benefit from a yellow peel treatment in Mumbai. As a leading expert in skin care, The Skin Doctor is here to guide you through everything you need to know about this transformative treatment.

What is a Yellow Peel Treatment?

Yellow peel treatment, also known as Yellow Peel Skin Treatment, is a non-invasive skin rejuvenation procedure that helps to revitalize and renew the skin. The treatment involves applying a specialized yellow peel solution to the skin, which helps to exfoliate dead skin cells, unclog pores, and stimulate collagen production. This results in smoother, brighter, and more radiant skin.

Yellow peel treatments are particularly effective for a variety of skin concerns, including acne, hyperpigmentation, melasma, and sun damage. They can also help to improve the appearance of fine lines, wrinkles, and scarring. The Skin Doctor recommends yellow peel treatments for patients who want to refresh their complexion and achieve a more youthful and healthy-looking appearance.

Finding the Best Yellow Peel Doctor in Mumbai

When seeking out a yellow peel treatment clinic, it is crucial to find a qualified and experienced doctor who specializes in skin care. The Skin Doctor is renowned for his expertise in performing yellow peel treatments and has helped countless patients achieve their desired results. With his in-depth knowledge and skillful techniques, The Skin Doctor ensures that each patient receives personalized care and achieves optimal outcomes.

When choosing a yellow peel doctor, it is essential to consider their qualifications, experience, and reputation. Look for a doctor who is board-certified in dermatology or cosmetic surgery and who has a track record of success with yellow peel treatments. Additionally, read reviews and testimonials from previous patients to ensure that you are selecting a doctor who is highly regarded and trusted in the industry.

Benefits of Yellow Peel Treatment

There are numerous benefits to undergoing a yellow peel treatment at a reputable skin treatment clinic. Some of the key advantages of this procedure include:

1. Improved Skin Texture: Yellow peel treatments help to exfoliate the skin, removing dead skin cells and promoting cellular turnover. This results in smoother, softer, and more even skin texture.

2. Reduced Acne: Yellow peel treatments are effective in treating acne by unclogging pores, reducing inflammation, and preventing future breakouts. The treatment can also help to fade acne scars and hyperpigmentation.

3. Brighter Complexion: Yellow peel treatments are known for their ability to brighten and rejuvenate the skin, resulting in a more luminous and radiant complexion.

4. Stimulated Collagen Production: Yellow peel treatments stimulate collagen production in the skin, which helps to improve elasticity and firmness. This can help to reduce the appearance of fine lines, wrinkles, and sagging skin.

Overall, yellow peel treatments offer a safe and effective way to enhance the health and appearance of your skin. With the expertise of The Skin Doctor and his team, you can achieve beautiful results and restore your confidence in your complexion.

In conclusion, if you are looking to transform your skin and address a variety of skin concerns, yellow peel treatment may be the solution for you. By choosing a reputable skin treatment clinic and working with a skilled yellow peel doctor like The Skin Doctor, you can achieve radiant, youthful-looking skin that you will love. Say goodbye to dull, uneven skin and hello to a brighter, more beautiful complexion with yellow peel treatment. Contact The Skin Doctor today to schedule a consultation and begin your journey towards healthier, happier skin.

Best dermatologist for skincare| Skin Treatment| Skin Treatment in mumbai| Dermatologist in Mumbai| Dermatologist Specialist| Best dermatologist in mumbai| Best dermatologist in Mumbai for hair| Top dermatologist in Mumbai| best dermatologist in mumbai for acne| Botox specialist| permanent laser hair removal| skin doctor mumbai| skin whitening injections| best cosmetologist in mumbai| hifu treatment in mumbai| hifu treatment cost in mumbai| hifu in mumbai| skin specialist mumbai| mnrf treatment in mumbai| doctors for nail surgery in mumbai| celebrity dermatologist in mumbai| yellow peel treatment in mumbai| yellow peel skin treatment clinic in mumbai| best yellow peel doctor in mumbai| dark circles treatment in mumbai| dark circles removal treatment in mumbai| cosmelan peel treatment| top skin needling services in mumbai| treatment for female pattern hair loss mumbai| Face & Neck Lift HIFU Treatment In Mumbai| Best HIFU Treatment Mumbai| party peel treatment in mumbai| best yellow peel doctor in mumbai| yellow peel skin treatment clinic in mumbai| dark circles treatment in mumbai| dark circles removal treatment in mumbai| cosmelan peel treatment| cosmelan skin peel trealment cost in mumbai| derma pen treatment in mumbai| best dermal filler treatment in mumbai| mesoporation in mumbai| microdermabrasion doctors in mumbai| female pattern hair loss in mumbai| treatment for female pattern hair loss mumbai

[risalei-nur]

The Words - The Twenty-fifth  Word - Part 127

It is on account of these qualities and characteristics of the Qur’an that we have indicated above in six points, that its sublime, luminous sovereignty and its sacred, mighty rule have continued with perfect splendor, illuminating the faces of the centuries and the visage of the earth for (more than) thirteen centuries. It is also on account of these qualities of the Qur’an that each of its letters has the sacred distinction of yielding at least ten rewards, ten merits and ten eternal fruits; indeed, the letters of certain verses and suras yield a hundred or a thousand fruits, or even more, while at certain blessed times the light, reward and value of each letter multiplies a hundredfold. 

Our traveler journey- ing through the world understood this and said to his heart: “The Qur’an, which is thus miraculous in every respect, through the consensus of its suras, the agreement of its verses, the accord of its lights and mysteries, and the concurrence of its fruits and works, testifies with its proofs to the Existence, Unity, Attributes and Names of a Single Necessarily Existent One, and its testimony has caused to issue forth the permanent testimony of all the believers.”

Thus in a brief reference to the instruction in belief and Divine Unity that the traveler received from the Qur’an, it was said in the Seventeenth Step of the First Station:

There is no deity but God, the Necessarily Existent, the One and Unique, Whose necessary Existence in His Unity is demonstrated clearly by the Qur’an of miraculous exposition, the Book accepted and desired by all species of angels, humanity and jinn; the verses of which are read each minute of the year, with the utmost reverence, by hundreds of millions of people; and whose sacred sovereignty is permanent over all regions of the earth and the universe and the face of time: its spiritual and luminous authority has run over half the earth and a fifth of humanity, for fourteen centuries, with the utmost splendor. This is also testified to and evidenced by the unanimity of its sacred and heavenly suras, the agreement of its luminous, Divine verses, the congruence of its mysteries and lights, and the correspondence of its fruits and effects, by witnessing and clear vision.

[rocketcrackers]

How to Save Big on Diwali Crackers: Insider Tips from Sivakasi Experts

Diwali, the luminous festival, loses its luster without the glorious cascade of pyrotechnics painting the nocturnal canvas. Nevertheless, the exhilaration of Diwali crackers often accompanies a steep expenditure. If you aspire to revel without depleting your finances, you’ve navigated to the ideal destination. We’ve collated clandestine tips from Sivakasi’s doyens of fireworks, the nucleus of India’s pyrotechnic industry, to assist you in securing significant savings on your Diwali crackers this year. Continue perusing to unveil the finest bargains and amplify your festivities.

1. Initiate Early and Strategize

A productive approach to economize on Diwali pyrotechnics is to commence your procurement early. As the festival looms, prices tend to escalate due to surging demand. By foreseeing your needs and acquiring your fireworks well in advance, you can capitalize on early bird rebates and eschew the last-minute frenzy.

2. Opt for Online Shopping for Superior Deals

The convenience of online purchasing extends to Diwali fireworks as well. Numerous online vendors situated in Sivakasi proffer an extensive assortment of crackers at competitive rates. Utilize search terms like "online crackers Sivakasi," "Sivakasi cracker online," and "crackers shop online" to uncover the optimal deals. Online shopping empowers you to juxtapose prices across diverse sellers, scrutinize customer testimonials, and avail of exclusive online discounts.

3. Seek Combo Packs and Bulk Reductions

Procuring fireworks in bulk or within combo packs can yield considerable savings. Many Sivakasi-based online retailers present enticing combo deals encompassing a variety of crackers at a discounted rate. These combo packs are not only economical but also furnish a diverse array of fireworks to enhance your celebrations.

4. Peruse Diwali Crackers Price Listings

Prior to making a purchase, it is pivotal to examine the most recent Diwali crackers price listings. This ensures you remain informed about prevailing market rates and avoid overpayment. Numerous online cracker shops routinely update their price lists, providing you with a lucid understanding of what to anticipate. Employ keywords like "diwali crackers price list" to locate updated pricing information and special promotions.

5. Choose Low-Cost Crackers Without Sacrificing Quality

You need not forfeit the quality of fireworks to save money. Many esteemed shops in Sivakasi offer superior crackers at modest prices. By searching for "crackers in low price," you can discover cost-effective options that still deliver a spectacular display. Opt for renowned brands recognized for their safety and performance.

6. Leverage Festive Discounts and Offers

Diwali is a period when numerous online cracker shops extend special festive discounts and offers. Vigilantly watch for promotions such as free shipping, buy-one-get-one-free deals, and additional discounts on bulk acquisitions. Subscribing to newsletters or following these shops on social media can keep you abreast of the latest deals.

7. Consult Customer Reviews and Ratings

Customer reviews and ratings are invaluable resources when purchasing fireworks online. They provide insights into the quality and performance of the products, as well as the dependability of the vendor. Seek online shops with favorable reviews and high ratings to ensure a gratifying shopping experience.

8. Prioritize Safety and Legality

While economizing is crucial, it is imperative to prioritize safety and legality when buying Diwali fireworks. Ensure that the crackers you purchase conform to safety standards and regulations. Reputable Sivakasi-based online shops often emphasize their adherence to these standards, offering peace of mind for consumers.

9. Compare Prices Among Different Vendors

Price comparison is a fundamental strategy for saving money. Utilize online platforms to compare prices among different vendors for identical products. This enables you to identify the best deals and avoid unnecessary expenditures. Comparison websites and apps can be particularly beneficial for this endeavor.

10. Exploit Cashback and Reward Programs

Many online shops offer cashback and reward programs for their clientele. These programs can provide additional savings and benefits on your purchases. Seek online cracker shops that extend these incentives and maximize them to enhance your savings.

By adhering to these insider tips from Sivakasi savants, you can enjoy a dazzling Diwali without straining your finances. Initiate early, shop online, seek bulk discounts, and remain informed about the latest prices and offers. Remember to prioritize safety and legality to ensure a joyous and hassle-free celebration. Happy Diwali and delightful shopping!

[bristolfashionshow]

The Science Behind Glowing Skin Serums

The science behind glowing skin serums lies in their carefully formulated blend of active ingredients designed to nourish, hydrate, and rejuvenate the skin. These serums typically contain potent antioxidants, vitamins, and peptides that work synergistically to promote collagen production, improve skin texture, and enhance radiance. Ingredients such as vitamin C, hyaluronic acid, and niacinamide penetrate deep into the skin, combating free radical damage, boosting hydration, and reducing the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles. By harnessing the power of science and skincare technology, glowing skin serums deliver visible results, leaving your complexion luminous, youthful, and revitalized.

Understanding the Formulation Deciphering the Ingredients of Glowing Skin Serums

Glowing skin serum are meticulously formulated with a potent blend of active ingredients designed to target specific skin concerns and promote radiance. Ingredients such as vitamin C, hyaluronic acid, niacinamide, and botanical extracts work synergistically to nourish, hydrate, and rejuvenate the skin from within. Each ingredient is carefully selected for its scientifically proven benefits, ensuring maximum efficacy in achieving a luminous complexion.

How Glowing Skin Serums Reach Deeper Layers of the Skin?

The science behind glowing skin serums lies in their ability to penetrate deeply into the skin, reaching the underlying layers where skincare concerns originate. The serum's lightweight texture allows for easy absorption, while advanced delivery systems ensure that active ingredients penetrate effectively. This deep penetration enhances the serum's efficacy, delivering transformative results that go beyond surface-level improvements.

The Key to Youthful Radiance of Glowing Skin Serums

Collagen is a vital protein that provides structure and elasticity to the skin, but its production decreases with age, leading to sagging and wrinkles. Glowing skin serums often contain ingredients like peptides and vitamin C, which stimulate collagen synthesis, helping to firm and plump the skin. By promoting collagen production, these serums restore youthfulness and resilience to the skin, resulting in a visibly radiant and more youthful complexion.

Shielding the Glowing Skin Serums from Environmental Damage

Environmental aggressors such as UV radiation, pollution, and free radicals can accelerate skin aging and dullness. Glowing skin serums are fortified with antioxidants like vitamin E and green tea extract, which neutralize free radicals and protect the skin from oxidative stress. This antioxidant protection not only preserves skin health but also enhances its natural radiance, leaving it looking fresh, vibrant, and rejuvenated.

The Secret to a Dewy Glowing Skin Serum

Hydration is essential for maintaining a luminous complexion, as dryness can lead to dullness and rough texture. Glowing skin serums often contain hyaluronic acid, a powerful humectant that attracts and retains moisture in the skin. By replenishing hydration levels, these serums plump the skin, smooth fine lines, and create a dewy, lit-from-within glow that radiates health and vitality.

Targeted Treatment for Specific Glowing Skin Serum Concerns Addressing Individual Needs

Whether you're dealing with hyperpigmentation, uneven texture, or signs of aging, glowing skin serums offer targeted solutions to address a wide range of skin concerns. Formulated with potent actives like niacinamide, alpha hydroxy acids, and retinol, these serums work to fade dark spots, refine pores, and improve overall skin tone and texture. By tailoring your skincare routine with the right serum, you can effectively address your specific concerns and achieve a luminous complexion.

Clinical Evidence and Real-World Results Backed by Science and User Testimonials

The efficacy of glowing skin serums is supported by both clinical research and user testimonials, providing tangible evidence of their effectiveness. Clinical studies demonstrate the benefits of key ingredients in promoting skin radiance, while glowing reviews from satisfied users attest to the transformative power of these serums in achieving healthy, glowing skin. With science-backed formulations and real-world results, glowing skin serums offer a proven solution for achieving radiant and youthful-looking skin.

Conclusion

The science behind glowing skin serums is a testament to the power of innovative skincare technology. Through meticulous research and formulation, these serums harness the potency of key ingredients like antioxidants, peptides, and hydrating agents to deliver visible results. By targeting specific skin concerns such as dullness, aging, and uneven tone, glowing skin serums offer a holistic approach to skincare that promotes radiance and vitality. Incorporating these serums into your routine can unlock the secret to healthier, more luminous skin.

[journalbeat]

Transformative Dentistry with Atlanta Dental Spa and Smiles For Life Network

Welcome to the world of transformative dentistry, where innovation meets exceptional care! At the forefront of this evolution are Atlanta Dental Spa and the Smiles For Life Network, two pioneering organizations dedicated to enhancing not just your smile but your overall confidence and well-being. Transformative dentistry isn’t just about aesthetics; it’s about comprehensive oral health care that can change lives.

The Evolution of Transformative Dentistry

Dentistry has come a long way from its primitive methods to the cutting-edge technology of today. Historically, cosmetic dentistry was limited to rudimentary techniques that often caused discomfort and yielded mediocre results. However, advancements in dental technology and techniques have revolutionized the industry, making transformative dentistry more effective and accessible.

Atlanta Dental Spa and the Smiles For Life Network are at the forefront of this dental revolution. These organizations combine state-of-the-art technology with a holistic approach to patient care, setting new standards in cosmetic and restorative dentistry.

Services Offered

Both Atlanta Dental Spa and the Smiles For Life Network offer a plethora of innovative dental services designed to transform your smile. Here’s a closer look at some notable offerings:

1. Teeth Whitening

Harnessing advanced whitening technologies, patients can achieve brighter smiles in as little as one visit. These treatments are safe, effective, and tailored to individual needs.

2. Veneers and Lumineers

Custom-crafted veneers and Lumineers provide a natural, flawless appearance, correcting imperfections such as chips, stains, and gaps.

3. Invisalign and Orthodontics

For those seeking to straighten their teeth discreetly, Invisalign offers a clear alternative to traditional braces. Orthodontic care at Atlanta Dental Spa and Smiles For Life Network ensures optimal alignment and functionality.

4. Dental Implants

A permanent solution for missing teeth, dental implants restore both function and aesthetics. Using advanced surgical techniques, these implants integrate seamlessly with your natural teeth.

Case Studies and Before-After Photos

Seeing is believing. The transformative power of these services is best illustrated through real-life case studies and before-and-after photos, showcasing the incredible results achieved by Atlanta Dental Spa and the Smiles For Life Network.

Patient Experience

The journey to a confident smile is as important as the end result. Atlanta Dental Spa and the Smiles For Life Network prioritize patient comfort and care at every step. From the initial consultation to the final reveal, patients are treated with the utmost respect and compassion.

Insights from Patients

Many patients have shared their transformative journeys, highlighting the caring environment and exceptional outcomes. These stories reflect the dedication of the dental teams and the life-changing impact of their work.

Comfort and Care

Modern dentistry techniques employed by these organizations ensure minimal discomfort. Sedation options, pain-free treatments, and a soothing atmosphere contribute to a positive patient experience.

The Impact on Oral Health and Confidence

Transformative dentistry is about more than just a beautiful smile; it significantly improves overall oral health. Misaligned teeth, missing teeth, and other dental issues can lead to complications such as gum disease, tooth decay, and even systemic health problems. By addressing these issues, Atlanta Dental Spa and the Smiles For Life Network enhance both your oral health and your quality of life.

Increased Confidence

Patients frequently report increased confidence and self-esteem following their treatments. Personal testimonials underscore how a renewed smile can open doors to new opportunities and positively affect personal and professional relationships.

Community Engagement and Partnerships

Atlanta Dental Spa and the Smiles For Life Network are deeply committed to their communities. They actively participate in various initiatives aimed at improving public oral health and providing care to underserved populations.

Community Initiatives

These organizations engage in community outreach programs, offering free dental services, educational workshops, and support for local charities. Their mission extends beyond their clinics to make a meaningful impact in society.

Partnerships

Collaborations with other healthcare providers enhance the comprehensiveness of care offered. By integrating dental health with overall wellness, Atlanta Dental Spa and the Smiles For Life Network ensure a holistic approach to patient well-being.

The transformative power of dentistry with Atlanta Dental Spa and the Smiles For Life Network is undeniable. Their commitment to innovation, patient care, and community engagement sets them apart as leaders in the field. Whether you’re looking to enhance your smile or improve your oral health, these organizations offer the expertise and dedication needed to achieve your goals.

[avicennacrowe]

The Ultimate Guide to Choosing the Best Serum for Glowing Skin

The Ultimate Guide to Choosing the Best Serum for Glowing Skin is your comprehensive roadmap to achieving radiant and luminous skin. Dive into the world of skincare as we explore the key factors to consider when selecting the perfect serum for your skin type and concerns. From analyzing ingredients like vitamin C, hyaluronic acid, and niacinamide to understanding how different formulations work, this guide equips you with the knowledge to make informed decisions. Discover expert tips on integrating serums into your skincare routine for maximum effectiveness and learn how to tailor your regimen to address specific skin concerns, such as dullness, uneven texture, or hyperpigmentation. With this guide in hand, you'll be well on your way to achieving a vibrant, glowing complexion.

Understanding the Importance of Serum for Glowing Skin

Serums for glowing skin are potent formulations designed to address specific skin concerns and promote a radiant complexion. Unlike moisturizers, serums contain high concentrations of active ingredients such as vitamins, antioxidants, and hydrating agents. Understanding the role of serums in skin care helps you appreciate their ability to nourish, protect, and rejuvenate the skin, leading to a luminous and healthy appearance.

Identifying Your Serum for Glowing Skin  Type and Concerns

Before selecting a serum for glowing skin, it's essential to identify your skin type and specific concerns. Whether you have dry, oily, combination, or sensitive skin, there are serums tailored to address your unique needs. Additionally, consider any specific concerns such as dullness, uneven tone, fine lines, or hyperpigmentation. Understanding your skin's requirements allows you to choose a serum that effectively targets your concerns and enhances your skin's natural radiance.

Key Ingredients to Look for in Serum for Glowing Skin

When choosing a serum for glowing skin, it's crucial to look for key ingredients known for their brightening, hydrating, and rejuvenating properties. Ingredients such as vitamin C, niacinamide, hyaluronic acid, and alpha hydroxy acids (AHAs) are renowned for their ability to promote a radiant complexion. These ingredients work synergistically to improve skin texture, fade dark spots, boost collagen production, and enhance overall luminosity.

Considerations for Specific Serum for Glowing Skin Concerns and Goals

Depending on your skin concerns and goals, certain serums may be more suitable than others. For example, if you're targeting hyperpigmentation, look for serums containing ingredients like vitamin C, kojic acid, or licorice extract. On the other hand, if hydration is your primary goal, opt for serums enriched with hyaluronic acid or glycerin. By considering your specific needs and goals, you can choose a serum that effectively addresses your concerns and helps you achieve your desired results.

Understanding Formulations and Texture of Serum for Glowing Skin

Serums for glowing skin come in various formulations and textures, ranging from lightweight liquids to creamy gels or oils. Understanding these differences can help you find a serum that suits your skin type and preferences. For oily or acne-prone skin, opt for lightweight, non-comedogenic formulations that absorb quickly without leaving a greasy residue. Dry or mature skin may benefit from richer, more nourishing textures that provide intense hydration and comfort.

Reading Reviews and Seeking Recommendations of Serum for Glowing Skin

Before making a purchase, take the time to read reviews and seek recommendations from trusted sources. Online reviews and testimonials from other users can provide valuable insights into the effectiveness and performance of different serums. Additionally, don't hesitate to consult with skincare professionals, such as dermatologists or estheticians, who can offer personalized recommendations based on your skin type and concerns.

Patch Testing and Incorporating Serums into Your Skincare Routine

Once you've selected a serum for glowing skin, it's important to patch-test the product to ensure compatibility with your skin. Apply a small amount of the serum to a discreet area of your skin and monitor for any adverse reactions over 24-48 hours. If no irritation occurs, you can safely incorporate the serum into your skincare routine. Apply the serum onto cleansed skin, followed by moisturizer and sunscreen during the day for optimal results.

Conclusion

Choosing the best serum for glowing skin involves understanding your skin type, identifying specific concerns, and selecting key ingredients that address your needs. By considering formulation, texture, and user reviews, you can find a serum that enhances your skin's radiance and promotes a healthy, luminous complexion. Incorporating the right serum into your skincare routine can transform your skin, leaving it looking brighter, smoother, and more youthful.

[ask-silver-the-hedgie]

The Science Behind Rejuvenating Facial Cream

Discover the transformative power of our Rejuvenating Facial Cream, meticulously crafted using cutting-edge scientific principles. Formulated with a potent blend of natural extracts and advanced skincare technology, this cream penetrates deep into the skin, targeting fine lines, wrinkles, and dullness. Harnessing the latest breakthroughs in dermatological research, our cream stimulates collagen production, enhances cellular renewal, and restores youthful radiance. Experience the science of beauty as our cream revitalizes your skin, leaving it visibly smoother, firmer, and more luminous.

Understanding the Ingredients of Rejuvenating Facial Cream

Unlock the secrets of our rejuvenating facial cream by delving into its meticulously curated ingredients. Each component is carefully selected based on scientific research and proven efficacy in skincare. From potent antioxidants to skin-replenishing peptides, discover how these ingredients work synergistically to deliver visible results, restoring youthfulness and vitality to your complexion.

The Science of Absorption in Rejuvenating Facial Cream

Explore the science behind the absorption of our rejuvenating facial cream, as it penetrates deep into the skin's epidermal layers. Through advanced delivery systems and molecular structures designed for optimal absorption, our cream effectively targets underlying skin concerns such as fine lines, wrinkles, and uneven texture. Learn how these innovative technologies enhance the bioavailability of active ingredients, ensuring maximum efficacy and long-lasting results.

Unveiling the Mechanisms of Action in Rejuvenating Facial Cream

Dive into the intricate mechanisms of cellular renewal activated by our rejuvenating facial cream. Powered by cutting-edge bio-actives and skin-revitalizing compounds, our formula stimulates collagen synthesis, accelerates cell turnover, and repairs damaged DNA. Witness the transformative effects as your skin undergoes rejuvenation from within, revealing a smoother, firmer, and more youthful appearance.

How Rejuvenating Facial Cream Addresses Key Concerns

Discover the targeted approach of our rejuvenating facial cream in addressing common signs of aging. From diminishing fine lines and wrinkles to improving elasticity and radiance, our formula tackles multiple concerns with precision and efficacy. Harnessing the latest advancements in anti-aging research, our cream delivers comprehensive solutions for a visibly rejuvenated complexion that defies the effects of time.

Evidence of Efficacy in Rejuvenating Facial Cream

Explore the clinical studies and scientific evidence supporting the efficacy of our rejuvenating facial cream. Backed by rigorous testing and dermatologist-approved trials, our formula has demonstrated significant improvements in skin hydration, firmness, and elasticity. Learn how these findings validate the transformative effects of our cream, providing reassurance of its safety and effectiveness for all skin types.

Shielding Skin from Harmful Factors with Rejuvenating Facial Cream

Understand how our rejuvenating facial cream goes beyond repair to offer proactive protection against environmental stressors. Enriched with potent antioxidants and UV filters, our formula forms a shield against free radicals, pollution, and UV radiation. Discover how these protective measures preserve skin health and prevent premature aging, ensuring long-term benefits for a radiant and resilient complexion.

Real Stories of Transformation with Rejuvenating Facial Cream

Embark on a journey of real-life experiences as users share their testimonials of transformation with our rejuvenating facial cream. From glowing testimonials to stunning before-and-after photos, witness the undeniable results achieved by individuals of all ages and skin types. Hear firsthand accounts of restored confidence, renewed youthfulness, and radiant skin, affirming the science-backed efficacy of our rejuvenating facial cream.

Conclusion

The science behind rejuvenating facial cream represents a pinnacle of skincare innovation. By harnessing advanced scientific principles and potent natural ingredients, these creams offer transformative benefits for your complexion. From combating signs of aging to enhancing hydration and protecting against environmental stressors, facial regeneration creams are a cornerstone of effective skincare. Embrace the power of science-backed formulations to unlock radiant, youthful skin that reflects your inner vitality and beauty. Experience the difference and embark on a journey towards timeless beauty with rejuvenating facial cream.