All Chapters of The Tale Not Old As Time: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Ninety-OneFlorence felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. “Theresa… was…” she whispered, the name echoing in her mind as his words echoed louder in the back of her head. Chaos took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the floor. “Theresa is no longer in the picture, okay?” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. “And I want you to trust me on this. I am not lying to you, and I never would.”Florence felt a strange mix of emotions – anger, hurt, and a strange sense of detachment since she had known that Theresa had possibly happened before she had met Chaos. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. She had never imagined this, never considered the possibility that there could be another woman, another love, in his past which was something that was so random and so out of the blue. The revelation hit her like a physical blow, leaving her breathless and disoriented. She had trusted him that they would not have any secrets with each other after everything she had told him about herself. Sh

Ninety-Three“Did you really love me for me?” Florence whispered, her voice trembling, tears welling up in her eyes. “Or... or did you only love me because I have her heart?”Florence’s question cuts deep. It exposed the very core of his fear – that she would ever question and think that his love for her was not genuine, that it was tainted by his connection to Theresa. He was terrified of losing her trust and hurting her further.Seeing Florence cry, feeling her pain and confusion, was excruciating. He hated that he was the cause of her distress right now. He wishes he could take it all back, erase the doubts that plague her.He paused and thought about her question deeply, he had always asked himself that question. But, at that moment, he started to question his own motives. Did he truly fall in love with Florence for who she was, or was it a subconscious projection of his love for Theresa onto her? This doubt gnawed at him, leaving him feeling insecure and unworthy of her love.A

Ninety-FiveChaos felt a wave of despair wash over him. Florence’s words were like a physical blow, each one chipping away at his already fragile hope. “No, Florence,” he answered, his voice hoarse, “that is not true. You are not a reminder of her. You are you.”“Stop saying that!” She yelled at him.“But it is the truth!” He kind of raised his voice at her as he sighed, “I am sorry for yelling. But please. Trust me on this. I fell in love with you, not with a memory and not because of her heart. It just deepened the connection, but the heart wants what it wants, and my heart wants you. Not of what is inside you.” She shook her head. He did not like it when he does that, so he immediately added to say, “I know my words might seem like that, but believe me, it is not the truth.” He paused, his voice catching. “I am so sorry for the pain I have caused you. I never meant to make you feel like you are just a… a vessel for someone else’s memory. This was why I did not want to let you know

Ninety-SevenAs Florence stepped out of the school, she spotted Chaos standing by his car. His shoulders slumped, and a look of weariness etched his face. He missed her, desperately. Florence’s heart ached as she saw him. She missed him too, the silence between them stretching on like an endless desert. They both knew that the longer they remained apart, the deeper the longing and the more painful the separation would become.He exhaled as soon as he saw her emerge from the school, her shoulders slumped slightly, and his heart ached. He wanted to reach for her, to pull her close and hold her until the pain subsided. He wanted to hug her and just feel her warmth once again after days of being away from each other.But he knew better. He had hurt her, deeply, and he had to earn back her trust, one small step at a time.He watched as she approached slowly and almost unsurely, her gaze fixed on the pavement, her footsteps heavy with unspoken emotions. He wanted to call out to her, to apol

Ninety-NineThe sun cast long shadows across the cemetery, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and damp earth. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient oak trees, creating a soothing, almost melancholic soundtrack.Florence and Chaos sat on the cool grass in front of Theresa’s headstone, a comfortable silence settling between them. Florence, her gaze fixed on the inscription, felt a strange sense of peace. The initial shock of the revelation had subsided, replaced by a quiet understanding, a profound sense of connection to the young woman whose heart now beat within her own chest.Chaos, sensing her quiet contemplation, reached out and gently took her hand. His touch was a silent affirmation of their shared grief, an unspoken acknowledgment of the profound connection they now shared.“What was she like?” Florence asked softly with curiosity.“Theresa… she was a whirlwind,” Chaos began, his voice thick with emotion. “She was a dancer. Ballet.”Florence nodded he