The world itself is a deceiver. Every human being has once been enervated by the hypocrisy of this world. Like a glass that drops and shatters, hearts are conditioned to be fragmented. This is the truth of the world. Those who seek to confront in their reverie are bound to great devastation. 

Every human being must encounter this ordeal.

Humans and otherworldly creatures intermingle together regularly, each unaware of the lurking dangers that would feasibly cause their lives. Both parties are oblivious to this, eventually harming one another, and falling to their pitiful death.

This world where I reside is crowded—vampires, witches, demons, grim reapers, wolves, and humans. Some beings are weak and powerful. 

"Your wine, sir." A bartender pours me a glass of wine, placing it beside me. I lift my gaze, meeting her eyes. 

Among all the creatures, humans are the most delicate. I lift the glass to my lips, taking slow sips while gazing at my surroundings. 

The bar was lit in red, making everything sensual. Groups of humans, and other creatures blended, dancing and drinking the night away. Some were laughing, and some were enjoying their pleasurable night. 

Humans carry purposes. They covet things, such as touch and love. Traces of tenderness left by another make them feel elation. They feel resentment towards those who wound them. Humans are vindictive. Humans love and hate. With such a temporary short life span, humans waste their lives away doing nothing meritorious. 

They live, die, and become bones to ashes. 

This is the reason humans are such complicated creatures. 

So why shall I try to find a human bride for myself? It was a question that the higher-ups won't answer. 

I've lived for decades. So why shall I find myself a bride who will eventually wither away? My jaw clenches at the thought. 

I looked around the crowd of people once more, but no one managed to catch my eye. 

. . .

3rd pov

The night was mourning. Silent breezes dance through the leaves of the green trees, playing a melancholy melody. The moon subsisted shining in the darkness of the night sky, accompanied by the stars that were carelessly thrown across the sky. 

Aeryn walks into the huge hotel. The white dress she wore complimented her pale skin. The simple pearl necklace appeared to shine brightly on her delicate neck. Her long black hair was loosely hanging below her waist. A warm smile appears on her red lips as her light blue eyes catch the sight of two cutesy couples.

Once the lift arrives at the twenty-fifth floor, she walks into the apartment of her boyfriend, Kyle Parker. A famous worldwide singer, who started with the help of his girlfriend, Aeryn. They have been dating for seven years and had been planning to officially publicize their upcoming engagement.

Aeryn looks at her hand. She was here despite the busy schedule for the day because Kyle has a bad flu. Since he has a show in two days, Aeryn wanted to help her boyfriend get better by then. Opening the apartment door with her fingerprint, she strides inside. 

It has been two weeks since she last met with Kyle as they both are workaholics. She smiles, walking towards his room on tiptoes to surprise him. 

Fate can be quite amusing. 

Her ocean eyes widened in shock as she watched through the unclosed door, of the private filthy affair that took place on her boyfriend's bed. The sound of moaning and the sound of skin clapping made it oblivious to what was happening inside that room. 

Aeryn's body froze, and her hands became campy. She hurriedly walks out of the apartment as if she couldn't accept the truth. Seven years wasted on such a scumbag like him. Seven years of bullshit. Aeryn thought. She refused to let a drop of tears for him. 

"I need alcohol," Aeryn mutters to herself.

. . .

Aeryn's Pov

The loud music inside the club instantly intensified my headache. I stride towards the bar, ordering myself a scotch whisky while sinking into my chair. I wanted to get drunk. 

"Ma'am, your whisky." A bartender says. Uttering a thank you, I gulped down the alcohol down my throat and ordered again. 

I wasn't upset by the fact that Kyle cheated on me. Rather, I was upset by the fact that I was going to marry such a scumbag. I never loved him. It was more of a business contraction anyway. Although I stayed loyal to Kyle, he didn't have that much control within him. Good thing I never let him do more than kiss me.

If so, why am I blinking away my tears? Am I sad? Hell yes. I wasted seven years with him. I could've done more, like securing more business deals to put my father's business on top 1 in the world. 

I've always wondered how being in love possibly feels like. 

Do you fall for them so deeply that you are unable to contain your feelings whenever you see them? Is the person you are in love with always imprinted onto the mind, never leaving you? Butterflies, giddiness, and unconditional happiness is that what love is supposed to feel like? 

I doubt it.

From all the books I read, love is war. Love is hurting as if the heart would shatter into pieces and feeling like you are about to die, but still choosing to stay. Love is falling for every sinful and toxic trait of the person who might drag you to hell with them and stain your soul, but letting them ruin you anyway. It's giving yourself away for the person who you love, a delicate heart in a rough hand that could crush it any moment. That's the kind of love I read about and it fascinates me. 

I've never loved a soul on this earth. People love and care for others, I care for others too. My family, friends, and people, but I don't love anyone. I don't love myself.

My heart has always been empty. I've never felt the passion and urge to love someone so deeply to the point of being afraid that my heart would burst. 

I've always thought that perhaps something is wrong with me.

Definitely.

"Hey," I look through half-lids to the guy who greeted me. I could barely keep my eyes open. Gulping down my whisky, I ignored him.

A hand roughly grabs my forearm. "I'm talking to you." The guy shouts over the loud music. He looks drunk and the blue-dyed hair made him appear like a pushover. Yanking my hand out of his grip, I grab my purse. "Maybe use that mouth to ask your hairdresser to make you not look like a joke."

I get up from my seat. Blinking a few times, I tried to walk. What can I say? I can't drink well, at all. I think I drank two years ago before this. My steps were slow and the room was spinning. 

I think I was falling until someone grabbed my waist and pulled me. 

Opening my eyes, I stared at the chest. I felt a hand on my waist, and another hand on my small back. Tilting my head, I drunkenly gaze into his eyes. Whoever this stranger was, he is hot as fuck.

Why does staring at this stranger's eyes feel intimate? Those dark eyes staring down at me so knowingly and amusedly made me sober up a bit. 

"Careful, little rose"