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Part 2: The Clockmaker Who Stopped Time for No One

Iris positioned herself protectively between Aurelio and the fae figure, though her voice carried more defiance than fear. "You said the bargain ended the moment I escaped. Those were your own words, Thistlewood."

The fae Thistlewood, apparently smiled with too many teeth, gold eyes glinting with dangerous amusement. "The bargain that held you, yes. But you forget the second clause, little songbird. The one you agreed to so eagerly, forty years ago, in exchange for information about the man you loved."

Aurelio's stomach dropped. "What second clause? What did you agree to, Iris?"

Iris's composure faltered slightly, guilt crossing her features. "When I first entered the forest, forty years ago, I wasn't chasing a story. I already knew about the fae. I went looking for them specifically, because I'd heard whispers that they could grant a single, powerful wish. I wanted" she hesitated, glancing at Aurelio with old, raw vulnerability, "I wanted to know if you truly loved me, or if you'd simply grow tired of me eventually, the way my mother always warned men eventually grew tired of women who loved too fiercely, too openly."

"You traded forty years of your life," Aurelio said, horrified, "for reassurance about my feelings?"

"I didn't understand the cost until it was already binding," Iris said, tears spilling freely now. "Thistlewood showed me a vision you, decades from now, still faithfully building that clock, still quietly hoping I'd return despite every reasonable person telling you to move on. I saw genuine love in that vision, Aurelio. Proof I desperately needed at the time. I just never anticipated the price would be forty years stolen from both our lives."

Thistlewood's smile widened, cruelly delighted by the pain unfolding before him. "The vision was real. The love was real. But visions require balance, little songbird. You saw forty years of his devoted waiting so forty years, precisely, is what the bargain took from you both."

"Then it's paid," Aurelio said fiercely, stepping forward despite his age, despite decades of grief still raw in his voice. "Forty years, exactly as promised. She's free now. Leave us in peace."

"Almost paid," Thistlewood corrected, gold eyes flicking between them with predatory patience. "There remains the small matter of the second clause the one written in far smaller print, the one Iris agreed to without fully reading. The vision required a life to remain unlived in exchange for the one it revealed. Someone connected to this love must give up forty years of their own future now, to balance what the vision already showed."

Iris paled. "You never mentioned that. Not once, in forty years of captivity."

"You never asked," Thistlewood said simply. "Fae bargains reward careful questions. Yours were not careful enough."

Aurelio stepped forward without hesitation, decades of accumulated grief transforming instantly into fierce, protective resolve. "Take it from me, then. I've already lived my forty years waiting. Take whatever's left instead."

"Aurelio, no" Iris grabbed his arm, desperate, but Thistlewood was already studying him with renewed, calculating interest.

"An old clockmaker's remaining years," Thistlewood mused, "against a young songbird's entire unlived future. That's hardly a fair trade, old man. The bargain demands balance, not sacrifice alone."

"Then let me offer something else," Aurelio said, thinking quickly, decades of stubborn devotion sharpening his mind despite his age. "Not years. The clock itself. Forty years of craft, of magic accumulated in every gear and spring through decades of unwavering devotion. Take the clock instead of either of our futures."

Thistlewood went very still, gold eyes narrowing with sudden, genuine interest. "The clock that never stopped, not once, in forty years of faithful keeping? That's no small offering, old man. That's genuine devotion, crystallized into craft. Fae bargains value that above almost anything else."

to be continued... ⏳🍂

The Clockmaker Who Stopped Time for No One

Aurelio had built the great clock tower in the center of Veyland himself, forty years ago, and had never once let it stop not for war, not for famine, not for the ***** of a king. The town believed, quietly, that as long as the clock kept ticking, Veyland itself would never truly fall to ruin.

He'd built it for her, originally. A woman named Iris, who'd loved him fiercely for one perfect summer before vanishing into the forest that bordered the town, chasing a story about fae who stole beautiful, brokenhearted things. She never returned. Aurelio built the clock the following spring, telling himself it was simply his trade, his calling never admitting, even to himself, that some small, foolish part of him hoped the ticking might somehow call her home.

Forty years later, on the clock's fortieth anniversary, it stopped.

Not broken Aurelio checked every gear, every spring, with the same careful expertise that had kept it running flawlessly for decades. Simply stopped, the hands frozen at precisely 3:17, the exact hour Iris had disappeared into the forest four decades earlier.

That night, a young woman appeared at his workshop door unmistakably, impossibly, the exact image of Iris as she'd looked the summer she vanished, not a single year older despite the forty that had clearly passed for everyone else.

"Aurelio," she said, voice trembling with disbelief. "You're... you're so old."

"Iris?" He nearly dropped the tool in his hand, decades of grief and longing colliding violently with impossible hope. "How is this possible? You haven't aged a single day."

"Time moves differently where I've been," she said, stepping into the dim workshop light, tears filling her eyes. "I didn't choose to stay away forty years, Aurelio. I was taken. Trapped in the fae realm the very day I entered that forest, held by a bargain I didn't fully understand until it was already binding. I only just managed to escape."

Aurelio reached for her hand, trembling, uncertain if she was real or some cruel trick his grieving mind had finally conjured after decades of quiet longing. "The clock stopped tonight. At exactly the hour you vanished."

Iris's eyes widened with sudden understanding. "The bargain," she whispered. "It must have finally broken. That's how I escaped but it means whoever held me will be looking for what was owed instead."

Before Aurelio could ask what she meant, the workshop door blew open on a wind that smelled of autumn leaves and something older, wilder, entirely unnatural and a tall, elegant figure stepped through, eyes glinting gold in the lamplight.

"Iris," the figure said, voice like rustling leaves. "You know better than anyone that fae bargains are never truly broken. Merely... renegotiated."

to be continued... ⏳🍂

Part 4 (Final): The Girl Who Traded Her Voice for the Sea

Three days passed with no word from Teodoro, each one stretching unbearably long as Marisol counted down the remaining days of her bargain, uncertain whether truth alone would be enough to fulfill the witch's terms.

On the fourth day, he came to find her not on the cliffs this time, but at her family's small cottage, his expression carrying the weight of someone who'd spent three sleepless nights wrestling with an impossible decision.

"I told my wife," he said without preamble, and Marisol's stomach dropped, uncertain what direction the confession had taken his marriage. "Everything. The storm, the bargain, what you sacrificed for me without ever once expecting anything back."

Marisol's hands trembled as she reached for her paper, but Teodoro shook his head gently, stopping her.

"Let me finish first," he said. "My wife Elena she cried, understandably. Not out of anger toward you, though. Out of grief, for the years you spent silently carrying something so enormous, and out of complicated gratitude, because your sacrifice is the reason her husband is alive to be her husband at all. She asked me something I've been sitting with for three days, Marisol. She asked whether I loved you too, once, before I ever loved her."

Marisol held her breath, waiting.

"I did," Teodoro admitted quietly. "Before the storm. I never told you, the same way you never told me. I convinced myself the feeling faded when you went silent, when I couldn't understand what had happened to you or why you'd suddenly grown so distant. I built a life with Elena because I genuinely love her too, Marisol. That part isn't a lie, and I won't pretend otherwise, even now."

Marisol nodded, understanding, grief and acceptance settling heavily into her chest even as she braced for whatever came next.

"But I can't just walk away from what you've told me either," Teodoro continued. "Elena and I talked for hours. She doesn't want a husband who spends the rest of his life wondering what might have been, and I don't think it's fair to you, either, to let this truth simply disappear back into silence now that it's finally been spoken. So we've decided together, honestly that I need to properly say goodbye to what we could have been, Marisol. Not to hurt Elena. To finally give you and I the closure three years of silence never allowed either of us."

Marisol felt tears sliding freely down her face, the complicated, bittersweet shape of the moment settling into something she hadn't quite expected but understood, somehow, was exactly right.

She wrote one final message, her hand steadier now than it had been in three years.

Thank you. For hearing me. For choosing honesty over easy silence, even when it would've been simpler to walk away and let the secret stay buried. I don't need you to love me the way I once loved you, Teodoro. I only needed you to know. That's enough. It's always been enough.

Teodoro read the words, something peaceful finally settling over his grief-worn expression, and reached out to squeeze her hand gently — not romantic, but tender, complete, three years of unspoken weight finally allowed to properly rest.

As he turned to leave, walking back toward the life he'd chosen and would continue choosing, Marisol felt something shift deep in her throat — a warmth, a loosening, three years of enforced silence finally breaking as the bargain's terms fulfilled themselves exactly as promised.

"Teodoro," she called out, her own voice returning to her for the first time in three years, rough with disuse but unmistakably hers.

He turned, stunned, watching her speak for the first time since the night he'd nearly drowned.

"Thank you," she said again, this time with her own voice carrying the words instead of ink and paper. "For everything. Go be happy, truly happy, with the life you've built. I think I'm finally ready to go build my own."

Teodoro smiled, something like peace settling over both of them as he walked away, leaving Marisol alone on the cliffs where she'd once sung every night her voice fully hers again, no longer bound to secrets or sacrifice, finally free to sing to the sea for herself instead of for anyone else's rescue.

THE END 🌊💛✨

THING'S DON'T JUST HAPPEN 💧

THERE'S NO PHYSICAL ***** 👿. NA MAN LIKE ME & U BE SATAN 🥺🫥🫥

I'm real life i'm actually quiet, especially in public. People would call me an introvert.

If you saw me in person you would strongly doubt that I'm the one making this content. You would never believe it is me. I am the last person that would come to your mind.

But when I'm around people that I'm close to that's when I talk. If I'm not in public and I'm with them alone, I turn to a talkative. That's just how I am. 🤔

The reason I do this is because if I was to reveal my identity it would cause problems for me. What if I use my real picture here and someone I know finds me?

And also, if I use my real picture I will have to think hard before I post something, I will be thinking of what to post in case those I know find me.

Let me post this one, let me not post that one. All these things is just stress.

When i'm anonymous, it allows me to fully express myself. If I was using my real profile, believe me I won't be posting all this content.

There is a possibility that my content will even become boring.

Even on Facebook my account was anonymous and I posted terrible things compared to here.

I will not hide my identity forever. A time will come when I will reveal it but the time has not come yet. When that time comes I'll reveal it.

#StrategyandExecution

🤔 💺📊📈📉💻

Part 3: The Girl Who Traded Her Voice for the Sea

Marisol's hand shook as she wrote, choosing her words with the desperate care of someone who understood this might be her only chance to finally be understood. She handed the paper to Teodoro, watching his expression carefully as he read.

I didn't lose my voice from shock, Teodoro. I traded it. To the sea witch. The night of the storm I begged her to calm the water long enough to save you and the others. She took my voice as payment. I've never told anyone. I've watched you build a life without ever knowing what it cost me to give you the chance to build it at all.

Teodoro read the words twice, his face draining of color, disbelief and dawning horror warring across his features. "That's not possible," he said quietly. "Sea witches, bargains those are children's stories, Marisol. Warnings mothers tell to keep us from wandering the cliffs at night."

Marisol reached for the paper again, writing quickly, urgently.

I know how it sounds. I know you have no reason to believe a mute woman's impossible story. But ask yourself honestly have you ever found another explanation for why I went silent the exact same night you nearly drowned? Three years, and no doctor, no healer, nothing has ever explained it. Because there is no natural explanation. Only the truth I'm finally telling you now.

Teodoro sat with that for a long, heavy moment, memories of that night clearly resurfacing the impossible calm that had settled over violently churning water just long enough to save four drowning sailors, a calm none of the survivors had ever been able to fully explain.

"The storm did stop suddenly," he said slowly, almost to himself. "All of us who survived talked about it afterward, quietly, never quite believing our own memory of it. One moment we were certain we'd die. The next, the water was calm enough to swim to shore. I always assumed it was luck. A trick of the weather."

Marisol nodded, tears filling her eyes as three years of carried secret finally, painfully began to surface into the open air between them.

"Why?" Teodoro asked, voice breaking. "Why would you sacrifice something so enormous for me? We were barely more than childhood friends back then. You'd never once told me you felt anything more than that."

Marisol's hands trembled as she wrote her final, most vulnerable admission.

Because I loved you. I'd loved you for years before that storm, silently, the same way I've loved you silently every day since watching you build a life with someone else, unable to tell you the truth, unable to even properly grieve the love I never got the chance to voice. I don't regret the sacrifice. I would make it again, exactly the same way, without hesitation. I only regret that you've spent three years not knowing, while I've carried the weight of loving you in complete silence.

Teodoro read the words with visible anguish, the full weight of the confession settling heavily over both of them. "I'm married, Marisol. I have a life now one I chose without ever knowing what you sacrificed to make it possible."

Marisol nodded, expecting exactly this response, though it still ached fiercely to witness it directly. She reached for the paper one final time.

I'm not asking you to leave your marriage. I'm not asking for anything from you at all, actually. The witch's bargain required only that you know the truth, freely, and choose what to do with it. I've fulfilled my part simply by telling you. Whatever you choose next is entirely yours to decide.

Teodoro looked at her for a long, complicated moment grief, gratitude, and something else entirely, something neither of them had words enough between them to fully name.

"I need time," he said finally, standing slowly, the paper still clutched carefully in his hand. "Time to think about what this means. For both of us. For my marriage. I'm not walking away from you tonight, Marisol. I just need to understand what any of this actually means before I know what to do with it."

Marisol nodded, watching him walk away along the cliff path, uncertain whether her month-long bargain had just succeeded, failed, or simply opened a far more complicated door than either of them had been prepared to walk through.

to be continued... 🌊💔

Part 2: The Girl Who Traded Her Voice for the Sea

Marisol gestured urgently, desperate for details, and the witch settled onto a nearby rock with the patience of someone who'd delivered this exact bargain countless times before.

"The price is simple to explain, harder to accept," the witch said. "Your voice returns the moment the man you saved learns the truth of what you sacrificed for him. Not from me. Not from a note, or a letter. He must hear it from your own lips, somehow, despite your silence and he must choose, freely, what to do with that truth."

Marisol frowned, confused, gesturing her question as clearly as she could manage.

"You're wondering how you're meant to tell him anything without a voice," the witch said, correctly reading her frustration. "That's precisely the price. You'll have exactly one month to find a way through writing, through gesture, through whatever creative desperation love inspires in people willing to fight for it. If he learns the truth and it moves him enough to act on it, your voice returns permanently. If the month passes without him understanding, the silence becomes permanent instead. No more chances. No more bargains."

Marisol's hands trembled as she considered the terms one month to somehow convey three years of silent sacrifice to a married man who had no idea she'd once loved him enough to trade away her very voice.

"There's one more thing," the witch added, almost reluctantly. "His wife will also learn the truth, inevitably, if you succeed. This isn't a bargain that lets you quietly confess and walk away unnoticed. Whatever happens, once he knows, everyone connected to him will know too. Marriages have ended over far less than a woman who traded her voice to save her husband's life."

Marisol closed her eyes, torn between the desperate ache to finally be heard and the guilt of what truth might unravel in Teodoro's now-settled life. But three years of silence had worn her down more than she'd let herself admit, and some part of her the part that had loved him fiercely enough to sacrifice everything without a second thought refused to let this chance pass entirely unexplored.

She nodded, accepting the terms before she could talk herself out of it.

The witch smiled, something knowing and a little sad in her ancient expression. "Then you have one month, little songbird. I hope, for your sake, that love is worth the storm it's about to stir up."

Marisol spent the following days in careful, desperate planning writing letters she tore up before finishing, attempting drawings that failed to capture the full weight of what she needed to say, growing more frustrated with each failed attempt to condense three years of silent devotion into something a mute woman could actually communicate.

It was Teodoro himself who unknowingly gave her the answer, nearly two weeks into her month, finding her on the cliffs one evening exactly where she used to sing.

"I remember you used to come here every night," he said, settling nearby, not quite a stranger despite three years of her silence keeping genuine friendship at bay. "Before the accident. Before you stopped speaking. I've always wondered what happened to you that night, Marisol. You went quiet the very same storm that nearly killed me. I've never quite believed that was coincidence."

Marisol's heart pounded, the opening she'd been desperately searching for suddenly, unexpectedly presenting itself. She reached into her bag with trembling hands, pulling out paper and a pencil she now carried everywhere, and began to write not a full confession yet, but enough of a beginning to finally, carefully, start the truth moving toward the surface.

to be continued... 🌊💌

The Girl Who Traded Her Voice for the Sea

Marisol had sung to the ocean every night of her life, ever since she was a child on the cliffs above her fishing village, until the night she traded her voice away to save the only man she'd ever loved.

The storm had come without warning, capsizing her father's boat and three others, sailors scattered across water too dark and violent for any rescue to reach them in time. Marisol had stood on the shore, watching helplessly, until the old sea witch appeared beside her a woman the villagers only spoke of in warnings, never invitations.

"I can call the waters calm," the witch said, "long enough to save them. But magic like that isn't free."

"Take anything," Marisol had said without hesitation, watching the man she loved Teodoro, first mate on her father's boat disappear beneath another violent wave. "Anything you want."

"Your voice," the witch said. "The very thing you use to sing to this sea every night. Fitting, don't you think? The ocean will finally have what it's always wanted from you."

Marisol had agreed before she could think better of it, and the storm calmed instantly, every sailor pulled safely to shore including Teodoro, alive, coughing seawater, unaware of what silence had cost the woman who'd saved him.

That was three years ago. Marisol hadn't spoken a single word since.

She still loved Teodoro watched him from a careful distance, unable to explain why she'd suddenly gone mute the very night he'd nearly drowned, unable to tell him the truth without the voice the magic had stolen. He'd married someone else eventually, a kind woman from a neighboring village, and Marisol had learned to live with the quiet ache of loving someone who would never know the sacrifice made for his survival.

Tonight, walking the same cliffs where she used to sing, Marisol found the sea witch waiting for her, ancient eyes glinting with something like amusement in the moonlight.

"You look tired, little songbird," the witch said. "Tired of carrying a secret that's eating you alive."

Marisol said nothing could say nothing simply staring out at the dark water that had taken everything from her in exchange for a man who didn't even know he'd been saved.

"I could give it back," the witch offered. "Your voice. There's still a way, if you're willing to pay a different price this time."

Marisol turned sharply, silent desperation written plainly across her face.

"But be warned," the witch continued, something almost gentle in her ancient voice. "This price isn't paid by you alone. And once it's paid, there's no undoing what gets set into motion."

to be continued... 🌊💔

Social Media personality and Socialite, Ehi Eghebor has opened up about her failed marriage, explaining that she did not marry her ex-husband because of his wealth, as she came from a wealthy family herself.

Speaking about her experience, Ehi described the marriage as feeling like “a luxury prison”, despite living in a beautiful and comfortable home.

According to her, she met her ex-husband about a year before their marriage, but they did not date at the time because she was not yet of age. She said he repeatedly told her that he wanted to marry her and get to know her.

Ehi explained that although her ex-husband had money, his wealth was not what attracted her to him because she had already grown up in a financially comfortable home.

She said her father was a wealthy businessman in Benin and owned several filling stations. She also attended some of the best schools while growing up.

“I didn’t grow up poor. I mean, I didn’t even grow up average,” she said, stressing that her decision to marry her ex-husband was not motivated by money.

However, Ehi said the marriage eventually became unbearable because she felt isolated and realised that her husband was not going to change.

Describing the home she once lived in, she said: “It was like being in prison. Yeah. Maybe a luxury prison because the house was really nice.”

She added that although she loved the luxury, the experience left her feeling lonely and trapped.

According to Ehi, the turning point came when she realised that her husband was not changing and had already isolated her.

She said this realisation eventually gave her the courage to leave the marriage.

Credit: @chudeity