Dual Heritage Ch 004

Author's Note: A Quick Hello and Some Housekeeping

Hey there! 👋👋👋

First off, welcome to this chapter! You've made it this far, which means either my story is interesting, or you've lost a bet and have to finish it. Either way, I'm thrilled you're here!

Let's address the elephant in the room--or the digital equivalent of one: the delay. Yes, I know. It's been

a while

. If chapters had frequent flyer miles, this one would've traveled halfway around the world by now. Life happened, deadlines ran off into the sunset, and, well... here we are. My deepest apologies for the wait, and I promise to do better (or at least try, let's not raise the stakes too high).

Now, some quick housekeeping before we dive in. This chapter has been polished, but if you spot any typos, they're there to test your attention to detail (totally intentional, I swear). Also, if you haven't already, consider following or leaving a comment--it fuels my creativity like caffeine fuels writers.

Finally, a massive THANK YOU. Your patience, support, and comments mean the world to me. Knowing you're out interested in my midnight ramblings, keeps me going even on the tough days. You're the real MVPs.

Okay, enough chit-chat. Let's get to the good stuff.

Much love and gratitude,

Ian Flint.

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Chapter 10

Mark was already seated in his usual spot near the back of the lecture hall, his notebook open, trying to focus on the professor's droning voice. He hadn't slept well, his thoughts kept drifting.

Just as the professor launched into a detailed explanation of macroeconomic theory, the classroom door creaked open. Ron, his usual grin plastered on his face, scanned the room for an empty seat. Catching Mark's eye, he sauntered over, his backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Mind if I crash here?"

"Least you could do is be on time," Mark grumbled scooting over.

"Traffic," Ron explained with a shrug. "You know how it is."

"Yeah, sure," Mark said, rolling his eyes. Ron's definition of "traffic" usually involved hitting the snooze button one too many times.

They settled in. Or at least Ron did, flipping open his notebook and grabbing a pen, his expression intent as he pretended to follow the lecture. Mark's attention, though, kept snagging on every rustle of paper, every cough, every... well, pretty much everything

except

the professor's droning voice.

"So," Ron whispered, nudging Mark with his elbow, "Ria, huh? Didn't see that coming."

"What? How did you...?"

"Dude, you two are like... the talk of the campus. Everyone's buzzing about it."

"Seriously? It's not even that big of a deal."

"Oh, it's a big deal," Ron insisted. "You scored a date with Ria, the most untouchable girl in campus."

"It's not like that."

"Sure, sure," Ron said, chuckling. "Whatever you say, Romeo. But seriously, she's amazing. You're a lucky guy."

"You're a regular gossip columnist, aren't you?"

"Hey, it's a talent," he says, patting Mark on the back. "But I'm serious, you two seem great together. People have been asking me about you guys constantly."

"Great," Mark muttered, sinking lower in his seat. "Just what I need. More attention."

"Hey, a little fame never hurt anyone. Besides, you deserve it. You've been flying solo for too long. Time to enjoy the perks of a high-profile relationship."

"I'm not sure Ria sees it that way."

"Give her time," Ron winked. "She'll come around."

Mark chuckled, shaking his head.

They settled into an easy chat, half-tuning out the lecture, their conversation drifting to upcoming exams and the latest basketball game.

Soon, the class wrapped up.

"Hey, you up for hitting The Gutter tonight?" Ron asked, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "Couple of rounds, some wings, the usual?"

The Gutter was their go-to spot, a rundown bowling alley on the outskirts of town, known for its cheap beer and questionable hygiene.

"Sorry, man. I've got plans."

"Oh, right," Ron said, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. "Priorities, priorities. Friends become second-class citizens once you're in a relationship."

"Don't be a drama queen. We'll hit The Gutter next week, I promise. And the first round's on me."

"Make it a pitcher, Romeo," Ron called over his shoulder. "And tell Ria I said hi."

Mark shook his head, chuckling as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and followed Ron out of the classroom.

"Mark, could you hold on a second?" Professor Jackson called out.

"Catch you later, man," Ron said, clapping Mark on the shoulder with a knowing grin.

Mark approached the professor's desk, a sense of apprehension creeping in. "What is it, Professor?"

"How's that paper coming along?"

Mark's mind went blank.

The paper.

Shit

.

He'd completely forgotten about it.

"Uh, yeah," he stammered, trying to sound confident. "It's going well. I've done some preliminary research, gathered some sources, and I have a rough outline."

"Good," Jackson said, nodding. "Just remember, deadline is in two weeks, and it accounts for a significant portion of your final grade."

"Got it," he replied, offering a weak smile.

He practically fled the classroom, feeling overwhelmed with everything that's been going on in his life lately.

* * *

Mark arrived at the park early, anticipation battling with a fresh wave of anxiety as he thought about Professor Jackson, about that damn paper. He scanned the area-- empty benches, kids squealing on the playground, a group of dogs chasing a frisbee in the distance-- all normal, comforting sights that did little to ease the knot in his chest.

No sign of Ria yet.

He pulled out his notebook, hoping to at least make

some

progress on his research. He'd been so caught up in the weird ass drama of...

everything

that he'd almost forgotten about the normal anxieties of college, deadlines, and grades. His phone buzzed-- a text from Ron, something about a party on Friday-- but he didn't even bother to open it. What was the point, when--

"Hey."

He looked up. Ria stood there, her cheek flushed, a sheepish grin on her lips.

She gave him a quick hug, her body warm, solid. "Sorry, I'm late."

"No worries," he replied closing his book. "Just trying to get some work done."

"Work?"

"Yah," He said, closing his notebook. "this paper for Professor Jackson's Econometrics class is a real pain. Regression analysis, statistical modeling... it's making my head spin."

"Econometrics?" She wrinkled her nose. "You sound awful. You'd think someone majoring in economics would be a little more excited about numbers."

"Hey, I'm all about marketing and strategy. Data analysis is not my domain."

"Can we please not talk about studying?"

"You're right," he smiled, stuffing his book back in bag. "So, how was your day?"

"Good, I guess. Just... exhausting."

"Rough day?"

"You could say that," she admitted. "We had this huge presentation, and let's just say it didn't go as smoothly as planned. My partner totally froze up. It was a mess."

"Tell me about it," Mark chuckled, his own paper suddenly looming. "Public speaking is not my forte either."

"Maybe we should practice together sometime. We can give each other pep talks and pretend to be each other audience."

"That's an idea I can get behind. Though I'm not sure even you can handle my awkwardness when presenting."

"Don't worry," she teased, giving him a playful nudge. "I'll coach you."

"I'll hold you to that," Mark said, his smile widening. "So, tell me more about this presentation. What went wrong?"

"Nope, Didn't I say? No more talk about studying."

"Alright, alright," he conceded. "What do you want to talk about then?"

"I have an idea."

"What is it?"

"Let's go for a walk." She gestured toward a wooded path leading to the lake, a popular spot for students looking for quiet study areas--or more private moments, given the couples he'd seen vanish into those trees. Without waiting for a response, she headed down the path, and he found himself following.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves overhead, dappling the wooded path in a mix of light and shadow. The air was filled with birdsong and the familiar scent of pine needles and damp earth.

Ria's arm slipped through his, and he looked down at her, struck by how perfectly she fit against his side. Her head brushed his shoulder. It felt...

right

. He tightened his grip on her hand, pulling her a little closer.

"So," she asked, her voice soft, "how was your day?"

Mark filled her in on the mundane details of his classes, the endless lectures and assignments that filled his days. Then he told her about his conversation with Ron, about how they were apparently the hottest gossip on campus.

"He's such a drama queen," he finished chuckling.

"Well, he's not... wrong. Word travels fast. My friends have been asking about you, too."

"Oh? What did you tell them?"

"That I'm.... kind of in the middle of being taken."

He grinned. "I like the sound of that."

Ria giggled. "I bet you do."

They walked in silence for a while, the path winding alongside the lake, sunlight glinting off the rippling surface of the water. The peace he usually found out here... it was gone, replaced by something more complex. He'd never felt so...

content

just being

near

someone.

It was a feeling he didn't want to let go of.

It's amazing how much things can change in a few weeks,

he thought, a wave of disbelief washing over him.

Is this even real?

The thought gnawed at him, persistent as the ache in his shoulder. Lida's words--

The bond can cloud your judgment

--echoed through his mind. Was he falling for Ria, truly falling? Or was this just...

destiny

, orchestrating emotions he hadn't earned?

They reached a clearing, a small pond nestled between the trees. White water lilies floated on the glassy surface. A dragonfly, wings iridescent in the sunlight, hovered above them, then darted away. He glanced at Ria-- her face upturned, those usually sharp features softened by a childlike wonder.

"Let's sit," he suggested, gesturing towards a cluster of rocks near the water's edge.

They settled onto the cool stone. Her head rested on his shoulder, a familiar weight that brought a sense of calm he hadn't realized he'd been craving. But that damn doubt--

It's an illusion

-- lingered, persistent as the memory of those crimson tears in his dream.

He loved spending time with Ria. She made him laugh, challenged him, and saw him in a way that no one else ever had. The physical attraction was undeniable, their chemistry off the charts.

But was it genuine? Or was it all just a product of a cosmic puppet show orchestrated by fate?

He wanted to believe it was

real

, that his feelings for her were genuine and untainted. But doubt lingered, casting a shadow over their budding relationship.

He thought of that day in her bedroom, of the library, of the way her scent had hijacked his senses before he'd even known her name. He'd been so focused on understanding their connection, on apologizing for his behavior... but he never stopped questioning his

own

feelings.

And then, somehow, things had shifted. They just clicked, conversations flowing effortlessly, laughter filling empty classrooms and quiet cafes. They bonded over cheesy action movies and a shared dislike for cilantro. He found himself looking forward for their dates, craving her company, her warm smile, and the spark in her eyes.

It was hard not to like Ria--smart, funny, beautiful, with a touch of mischief that kept him on his toes.

But that nagging doubt persisted, whispering in the back of his mind:

Is this real?

"Mark? What's wrong?"

Ria's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Nothing," he mumbled, trying to sound casual.

She lifted her head, her gaze searching his. "You seem stressed. Something's bothering you."

"What makes you say that?"

"You're doing that... stressed out thing."

"I am doing what now???"

"You breathe faster when you're stressed," she explained, her voice soft. "And your voice... it gets this tight, clipped tone."

"I'm not breathing faster."

She placed her hand on his chest. "Yes, you are," she said, with a playful smile. "And your heart's racing."

He wanted to deny it, to deflect with a joke, with that easy charm he usually relied on. But something in her gaze, in the genuine concern he saw there...

"Okay, maybe a little."

"What's bothering you?" Ria asked softly. "You can talk to me, Mark. You know that, right?"

He sighed, the weight of it all-- this bond, his parents, that goddamn

paper

, Ria's scent lingering even now-- threatening to crush him. He knew he couldn't keep bottling things up, especially not with Ria.

She deserves better. She deserves my honesty,

he admitted to himself, even if it meant laying out the messy, confusing tangle of thoughts and emotions churning inside him.

"It's just... this whole bond thing," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "It's messing with my head. I don't know what's real anymore. I don't know if... if what I feel is...

me

or just--" He stumbled, searching for words to describe this cosmic puppet show he felt trapped in.

His eyes met hers. "I like you, Ria.

A lot

. But what if it's all just an illusion? What if it fades away?"

Ria didn't answer right away. Her hand remained on his chest, the warmth of her touch a comforting counterpoint to the turmoil within him. The silence lingered, broken only by the soft sound of water against the rocks.

"I understand," she finally said, her voice soft. "It's a lot to take in. To be honest..." she hesitated, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her features, "I have those same doubts, you know."

"You do?"

"It's....

intense

. Overwhelming at times. It's hard to separate what's real... and what's just this..." Her voice trailed off. "This...

pull

."

"But... you seem so sure," he said, confusion in his voice. "About us... About... this."

"I want to be sure. I want to believe in it. But it's scary, you know? To think that my feelings, my choices, could be influenced by something beyond my control."

"Yeah," he whispered. "Like giving up... a part of yourself."

"Exactly." She sighed. "But maybe that's what this is about, Mark. Trusting... each other? Trusting that this connection... it's leading us somewhere good."

He shook his head. "I've always been... in control of my choices. This... it feels different. Like I'm being swept along by some current I can't fight."

"I get it. But maybe letting go isn't always a bad thing. Maybe it's about surrendering to something bigger than ourselves, something that can lead us to a place we could never reach on our own."

"I don't know how you

do

it," he said. "You always seem... so sure of yourself, so confident."

She chuckled. "Trust me, that's far from true. I have my doubts. My anxieties... insecurities. Plenty of them."

"But--"

"Sometimes..." she cut him off, her voice soft but firm. "You just have to trust your instincts. Even when it feels like you're about to walk off a cliff. I have learned that a long time ago."

"That's easy to say when you grew up in this world. But for me, it feels like this crazy

curve ball

."

"Maybe... But it's worth a shot, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I... I wouldn't be here if I didn't." He still couldn't shut off his brain-- those questions, those fears, whispering constantly in the background--but he was trying. He was

here

. "It's just... hard."

"I know," Ria said, her gaze understanding. "Sometimes I feel the same way. It's like there's this voice in my head, whispering... what if this is all wrong? What if we're not.... What if we just--"

"... screw it all up?" Mark finished, a wry smile twisting his lips.

Ria laughed, the sound light and airy. "Exactly."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of those shared anxieties lingering in the air.

"It's weird, isn't it?" Mark said, shaking his head. "This whole soulmate thing. Like, it's 21st century, and we're supposed to believe in destiny and predetermined love?"

"Well," she countered, a thoughtful expression on her face, "people still have arranged marriages. And those seem to work out sometimes."

"Yeah, but that's different," He couldn't quite articulate

why

-- but it

felt

different. "That's about families, tradition, cultural expectations. This..." He gestured between them, at the invisible thread that Lida claimed bound them together. "This is about... mystical energy connecting us to--"

"Maybe it's not that different," she said. "Think about it. Arranged marriages are based on the idea that two people can learn to love each other, right? Maybe

this

works the same way. It brings us

together

-- two souls who are... meant to be intertwined-- and then it's up to

us

to figure out the rest. Think of it just a more... intense version of that." Ria tilted her head, that mischievous spark back in her eyes. "Like a... cosmic matchmaking service, I guess."

"A cosmic

what

?" He laughed,

amused

. "That sounds even weirder."

"Not the best analogy?"

"Pretty terrible, actually." He shook his head, but couldn't suppress his grin. "But I get what you mean."

"Okay, good. Because--"

"But what if we're not compatible? What if we're not...

meant

to be?"

"Then we walk away." Her voice was calm, steady. "It might bring us together but the bond doesn't control us, Mark. We still have a choice. We can embrace it, or... well.. we can just walk away."

"But my aunt..." he hesitated, uncertainty creeping back into his voice. "She said that breaking a bond... it can be dangerous. For both people involved."

Ria sighed, looking at the rippling pond. "Mark, I don't know what you want me to say," she said, a hint of frustration in her voice. "I don't have all the answers. Despite what you think this whole thing... it's new for me, too."

Silence returned, heavy and uncertain. Mark stared at his hands, his thoughts a jumbled mess. It felt like standing on the edge of that cliff she'd mentioned earlier.

Was there a right answer here? A way to navigate forward without getting lost in the storm of doubts and fears?

He turned to look at Ria, her profile illuminated by the soft golden light. He remembered Lida's words:

She's going through the same thing you are, Mark. Don't forget that.

Idiot!

He had been so wrapped up in his own head, in the maelstrom of doubts and what-ifs, that he hadn't even

considered

... her. He had bombarded her with questions, with anxieties, with his own fears, without even attempting to ease hers.

"You know," he began, a nervous laugh escaping his lips, "There's one thing about this whole... situation that's just... most absurd."

Ria drew her knees to her chest, turning to face him, her brow furrowed with curiosity. "What's that?"

"You know, like..." He winced internally, unsure how to broach the topic. "How... well, how

extreme

some things are?"

"Extreme?" she echoed, tilting her head. "What do you mean?"

"You know... the physical side of things." He felt like a bumbling idiot. "The intensity. It's like... my body just goes haywire. I can't... I can't seem to control it."

"Control what, exactly?"

"You know..." he stammered. "The... the... after part. It's just... it goes on forever."

"What are you talking about, Mark?"

"When we... you know...When we had sex. It's like... we don't stop. For a long time."