I knew it was him once again. I had thought i had left him behind. He had sworn to never love another. I had not made such a vow and had kissed many men since him; but still the vibration of my lips was a betrayal. I had thought him dead and gone, or hermitized on that mountain. The mountain filled with flight and puffy clouds perfect for sitting and watching the sunrise. He had vowed to love me and only me. And i had not reciprocated. Though I had not, he had insisted on keeping his vow, and loving only me, in perpetuity. This was his way of saying that he would find me in another life and love me. But still even then it was unlikely that our love would blossom. Because my true love was a demon; and i could never love another; for he had my soul. But still my wedding began, my wedding in a black dress; a wedding and a funeral. For my love was of the Underworld. When I saw him his face was turned to his new love, and I craned my neck desperately to see her face. His eyes lit up as they did only for me—now for her. As the music swelled and I took my place at the altar, her face turned, our eyes locked, and I swallowed a scream. We were the same, and yet; Mirrored.

Lilac slumped herself down on her bed and grabbed a book off the beside table beside her. Quickly flipping through the pages, she found where she left off.

Halfway through reading, the sense hit her. The tickling on her lips. She rubbed them and it went away. A few seconds later, it came back, and stronger too.

Lilac closed her book and put back on the table. She rubbed her lips again, but it didn't go away this time.

"But my husband's at work..." She whispered to herself.

Just then her cell phone rang. Lilac pulled it from her pocket and held it up. It was her husband's work. She clicked the green button and held it up to her ear.

"Hello Mrs. Jack. Your husband doesn't seem to have come to work today. Is he sick?" The crackly voice asks.

"No, he isn't sick unfortunately. He left a few hours ago telling me he was going to work. Are you sure he isn't there?" Lilac asked back.

"We've checked over and over. He isn't here."

Then the voice suddenly cuts off, leaving Lilac with more questions then answers. Where was her husband? Why wasn't he at work? And why did the sense hit her again after six years?

Lilac immediately pulled on her shoes and headed out the door. Whenever things like this happened, her sister was always there.

She slipped into the driver seat, backed out into the street, and drove away. Then another call came in from her husband. She picked it up and put it between her ear and shoulder.

"Hey honey, what's up?" She asked.

"Oh nothing dear. What's been up with you while I'm at work?" A quiet moaning comes from the background as he speaks.

"I was reading a book when that sense I told you I had hit me. Do you know anything about that?" Lilac wondered.

"Oh, um, of course not! I would never cheat, you know that!" He exclaims.

Lilac instantly knew he was lying. She grabbed the phone and hit the red button before slamming the gas and speeding to her sister's house with tears streaming from her face.

When she arrived, she skidded the car to a stop and leaped out. Then she stormed up to the porch, skimmed through her keys, found the one key and jammed it into the lock. The door flew open and Lilac stomped into the house. The inside is deserted. Lilac glanced around before quietly sneaking towards the bedroom. Just when she is behind the door, her sister opened it and glanced around. When she saw her front door open, she rushed out with a gasp.

"Carlos! Someone's broken in!" She exclaimed.

Lilac's husband came running out of the room with no shirt.

After he did, Lilac silently slipped into the room and into the closet, closing the door enough so she could still see them, but so that they couldn't see her.

Outside the room, Carlos and her sister, Gulia searched around for the person who broke in before giving up and closing the door and locking it. Then they went back into the room. Carlos pressed his body to Gulia's and kissed her with a great force. Lilac's lips tickled as she watched. Guila leaned back with turned her head to the side, showing her neck. Carlos ooed and moved to her side before leaning his head down and slowly biting down her neck. She moaned and Carlos smiled as he continued.

Suddenly, Carlos slowly moved his hands down her body and grabbed just above her ass. He lifted her up and carried her above him to one side of the bed. Gulia's long hair hung down in his face and she growled playfully.

"Tiger." She whispered.

Carlos put his lips onto hers as he laid her down on the bed and lay beside her. Lilac's lips tickled yet again.

Suddenly, as Carlos begins slowly removing her shirt and pants, and she moans again, Lilac can't take it anymore.

"You fucking bitches." She whispered.

Gulia snaps her head up and looked toward the closet. Carlos lifts his head with wide eyes before trying to bite down her neck again. She holds up a finger to stop him.

"Someone's in the closet." She snapped.

Carlos widens his eyes again and turns that direction.

"You dirty, no good, lying...STUPID ASS BITCHES!" Lilac slams the door against a wall. Her gaze is covered with a thick shadow. Then she looks up and sneers at them.

Guila stands up completely and stares at her nervously.

Carlos stays where he is.

"Oh dear Guila..." Lilac slowly walks toward the bed. "Your nervous aren't you?"

Guila gulps.

Lilac reaches behind her and grabs the handle of the knife in her pocket she had prepared for exactly this moment. Then she slowly begins making her way around the bed.

Carlos stands up and puts Guila behind him. "Stop it, Lilac."

Lilac eagerly licked her lips. "Make me." She growled.

Carlos straightened authoritativly despite the storm of nervousness and chaos reining in his gut and head. "Stop." He said again. "You're not going to get to her except through me."

Lilac smiled. "Gladly." She swung her hand out from her back and dug the knife deep into Carlos's body.

Crimson red blood poured from the hole left behind. Lilac pulled the knife and pushed Carlos onto the bed. The sheets absorbed the blood almost like a vaccuum.

Guila gasped with a hint of panick.

Lilac slowly licked up the knife and let the blood ooze over her face.

Guila gulped again.

Lilac then, in one motion, swung her hand forward again and let the knife fly. Guila barely had any time to react as it buried itself deep into her chest. She groaned and fell against her nightstand.

Dead.

Lilac smiled with a frightening pleasure.

I rounded the corner and my eyes fell on two people wrapped up in each others arms. I at first was embarrassed to catch such an intimate moment. Then dread and gloom rushed over me. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I wanted to drop to my knees and scream why but I couldn’t even move. The emotional pain was so much it was parolizing. I didn’t want it to be real. Maybe if I just stood here frozen in time I wouldn’t have to move to the next phase of realizing the love of my life was kidding someone else.

Need to add ending lol

Mother rushes into the bridal sweet clutching our only maternal heirloom; a slightly discolored but intricately laced mid-length vail is crushed by two fists of ivory complexion. My mother is no stranger to frowning, but the corners of her mouth are draped down her face almost as fierce-fully as her plunging neckline. “Don’t panic,” she blurts out. I stare at her questioning, though mostly emotionless, as my mother is not one to have problems of real concern. My mother is one of those breeds of women that can take anything harmless and make it a mortal enemy with a swiftly spun tale. My interest in her information is very short lived, as it ought to be, and instead my eyes focus in on the clenched vail and the creases that will no doubt need to be steamed again before I can wear it. “What is it, mom?” I ask in slight frustration, still looking down at those clenched white fists. She begins, “I went down to the car to get your vail and those awfully painful red shiny pumps I NEEDED to have for this day, you know the ones that I was supposed to break in but I couldn’t because they were too painful..” “MOM!” I cut her off, too enervated to participate in her lengthy explanation. “Well that doesn’t even matter,” she starts again without missing a beat. “When I went to the car, I saw Thomas getting out of the limo, and before I could signal a hello, the wedding planner was getting out after him,” she exhales whatever breath she had left. “Okay.. and..?” I ask quizzically. “Oh that’s not all!” She continues, “the wedding planners dress was on backwards!”

More on that: The dress is a revers plummeting dress and isn’t on backwards. Her lips tingle when the one she loves kisses another. Her lips tingled that day. She ignored it. It was actually tingling because her first love was kissing someone else. She still loves… HIM.

It was scary, at first. The feeling. The weird tickle I get on my lips when people I love kiss other people. I thought at first it was only romantic. The first time it happened, I was told five minutes later that Tyler had kissed Jesse on the swing set. But that belief faded quickly. For one, my parents were definitely never romantic for me. But my father kissed my mother and there it was. And then my sister kissed her boyfriend, and all the weird fear faded away.

I like knowing people love each other. But my family isn’t the touchy type. A peck here and there, of course, but they show affection in other ways. So the feelings were few and far between.

But there were there. So when my husband, my darling soulmate, the light of my life, apple of my eye, headed off to work and my lips tingled not ten minutes later, I knew to not be nervous. I couldn’t drop my daughter off at school that day, and she demanded kisses from anyone saying goodbye.

She was sitting in the coffee shop intently focused on the story lit up on the screen in front of her, sipping her steaming hot latte. She briefly looked up when a new customer came in and ordered his coffee. He noticed her and smiled briefly in greeting. Sarah was soon immersed in the story before her again. Her mind completely absorbed in the words before her, it took a moment for her to realize the foreign sensations that had begun assaulting her lips. Sarah’s mind went completely blank with shock. Then as the horror of the realization hit her with full force her gut lurched and she quickly covered her mouth. The ticking in her lips would not stop. They actually intensified. She blinked her eyes as the tears began to well.

Sarah had been 16 the last time she had felt this. Her lips had started tickling and the sensation was unsettling. She was not at all sure why she was so put off by the feeling that she just wanted to go home and talk to her momma about it. As she zipped her backpack, she threw it over her shoulder and went in search of DJ to tell him bye. Trepidation running through her, she barreled around the corner of the locker room only to stop short at the sight before her. Lips locked together was DJ and his ex girlfriend Heather! DJ looked up with her startled gasp and immediately dropped his hands and removed his lips from heathers and in that instant her lips stopped the tickling sensations. This had happened two other times and it meant only one thing. The man that she had gave her heart to, her soulmate of 6 years had just kissed someone else.

Sarah hastily gathered her belongings and was barely out the door of the coffee shop before the tears overflowed and the ragged emotions of the ultimate betrayal completely overtook her.

We burst out of the room at a slight jog, hand in hand as our family and friends continue to clap and cheer in a standing ovation. Flower petals dust our heads and shoulders. We sneak away to the room selected for us to steal a private moment before returning to the ballroom for a night of playing host as newly weds. We stop to catch our breath and face one another. We did it, we’re married. So much time and planning went into a wedding, that it was easy to miss the reality that you just legally bound yourself to your soulmate, your best friend, forever. Immediately we embrace, kissing deeper and more passionately than we dared to in front of everyone else. That’s when I felt it, that tickle on my lips. It was so brief, I questioned whether I’d felt it at all. How long has it been? Six years? The tickle was so faint that it must’ve only been but a peck. I shake off the thoughts and focus on my husband. “Let’s do this!” He says with a grin.

“Woo! This is the night best ever!” Holly, one of my bridesmaids was completely wasted, jumping up and down to the music while screaming this in my ear. The reception had been a success; the first dance, the toasts, the food. The only part that I still harped on were the dances with our parents. We both knew it would be awkward but at least they managed to paste on smiles for the rest of the guests.

I only have my dad and my husband only has his mom and unfortunately they both were and still are, not happy with our relationship. It started right from the beginning. My father was stoic when I first brought him home, I figured that’s how all dads were with their only daughter’s adult boyfriend. His mom was the same and over time we understood that they disliked our relationship immensely. We both tried to pry the reasons out of our respective parent but to no avail. We even, for a time, stopped talking to them completely. Six years ago actually, the last time I had felt my lips tingle. This odd, ability so to speak can only be felt when someone I love kisses someone else and within close proximity to me. I hadn’t been able to figure out who it was the last time it happened all those years ago and now tonight, earlier, I was sure I felt it again. Who is here tonight, that I was also around almost 6 years ago to the day?

I scan the dance floor and the tables looking for my father but can’t spot him. I find my husband and pull him aside. “Have you seen my dad?” I ask. “No I haven’t, funnily enough I can’t find my mom either.” Just at that moment I felt it again but stronger. The tickling sensation like my lips were being pricked with needles. I run my fingers across them, feeling concerned. My husband immediately notices and understands what’s happening. “Your lips? Really? It’s been so long.” “I know” I reply. We leave the ballroom and wander the halls of the venue. We pass a row of doors and pause. The distinct sounds of clothing brushing against clothing, the wet sounds of kissing and the soft noises of passion emanate from what seemed to be a storage closet. My lips were on fire, I winced as my husband flung open the door. To our shock and horror, our parents, my father and my husband’s mother, were engaging in some serious necking. They parted as fast as opposing magnets and all four of us stared at each other.

“What is going on here?” my husband asked in almost a whisper. I felt enlightened and sick. “Is this why you’ve hated our relationship, because you two were together? Are together…whatever!” My father spoke, “no hun that’s not the reason. Yes it’s true we were in a relationship but it was 30 years ago!””However, sometimes, we would get together and rekindle.””Thirty years ago, how is that even possible?” my husband asked. “I’m only just now 30-“. His eyes went wide and he stared wildly at his mother. She sighed, “yea hun, we tried to tell you guys but you wouldn’t…listen.””BECAUSE YOUR EXCUSES WERE BULLSHIT!” my husband roared.

I was numb. My lips throbbed. Siblings.

Asim glared at the heads perched on the top of the city gates. After 6 years some had turned to white skulls and others were simply mummified.

The lick of the whip stung Asim on the back of his knee. He fell on the dirt and hissed at the overseer. With a mallet in his sweaty hands, he wished he could crush his torturer’s skull.

“Taking a break, Asim?” Gyasi approached, the whip coiled and held in his hands. “Keep working, slave.”

Some day, Asim thought, vengeance will be mine.

Six years ago was the happiest day of his life. He had married his love, Princess Ankhara. One of the few arranged marriages that had worked. They had fallen in love upon their first meeting at age 13.

It seemed not 6 years ago but 60.

Pharaoh had been forced out of power and killed, and the royal family sold into slavery. The new king had taken over the Pharaoh’s tomb and would finish it for himself. Prince Asim was now forced to build a monument to his father’s murderer.

Back their wedding day, a strange woman had approached with a blessing. She had touched the Prince’s lips with her finger. “If your kisses another, you will know. But all will be well.”

The invasion happened during the wedding feast. Hundreds killed. The royal family torn apart. The Prince and Princess, newly married, were carried away.

Asim took a few gulps of water from the water skin being passed around.

Then he felt it. The tingle. He touched his lips. The wedding. The strange old woman. Ankhara!

His heart sank. It had been 6 years, he thought. Of course she would find a new lover. Why am I so surprised?

He just wished it didn’t hurt so much.

And his rage toward Gyasi and the new Pharaoh’s empire boiled like the sun that beat on his brow every day.

The tingling woke him during the nights. She was with her new partner and it was expected that he would feel this over and over.

But why had the old woman cursed him in this way? What wrong had he committed to her? He strained his mind to think. Soon he drifted off to sleep.

In the dream she appeared to him. He was seated in his old place, rested and clothed and healed of his injuries.

“Why?” Asim asked her. “Why did you give me this knowledge?”

The old woman smiled kindly. “I knew and loved your mother, Asim,” she explained. “I gave you a gift, not a curse.”

“How can that be?”

“The gods foretold to me that the rightful Pharaoh would be betrayed and overthrown on your wedding day. I knew that Ankhara’s devotion might be questioned. I gave you this gift not to punish but so you would know that if she kissed another, it would not be by consent.”

Asim gasped.

“She has finally agreed to marry the Pretender,” she said. “And every night she cries out to the gods in despair. Because he has threatened to kill you if she will not forget you.”

Asim awoke that morning, refreshed and ready to endure what the day would bring. It would not be much longer.

Soon, fresh heads would be perched on the poles at the city gates.

Getting dressed in the elaborate white gown, and the strenuous process of leaving every singular strand of hair in perfect position was my morning. The excitement I felt as I laughed with my friends, each dressed just as fancily me, seemed like so long ago.

As I walked down the aisle, my hands clenched tightly onto my father’s arm from the nerves, but mainly the happiness, I felt better than I ever have. But now, I sit here on this small swing with my feet dragging along the gravel softly, my heels long forgotten during my run.

We did our vows, and when the officiant told us to kiss, we did. The tingling in my lips sent sparks through me as a few glittering tears of happiness spilled down my blushed up cheeks. We danced to our songs as our family and friends clapped. It was supposed to be the best day of my life.

When my sister came to congratulate me, and my newly wed husband left with the words “I’ll be right back…” spilling from his deceiving lips, I did not think anything of it. I pressed a kiss to his cheek, and the smile never left my lips.

But then, the special sting spread through my lips and with it, my smile slowly dimmed. The words leaving my sister’s mouth turned muted, and I couldn’t hear nor think because what else could that ever-knowing tingle mean?

I checked before I left, though, because even though my mind knew, my heart couldn’t take it. Not on this day. My eyes searched the room, and my feet traveled to every corner, ignoring every weird look thrown my way. But I didn’t find him in the room; instead, I saw him outside, hands cradling someone who wasn’t me. There was a smile on his face and a fondness in his eyes that, as I stood there, I realized I had never truly seen.

Without the heart to confront him, I did my only other option and ran. I took off my heels a few seconds in, ignoring the pain of my bare feet on the sidewalk. My billowing dress tripped me up, but I just lifted it up in my arms and ran until… I couldn’t.

The park came into sight as I slowed down, and I fell into the swing, the old chains creaking at the weight designed for children. Tears ran down my face and the leftover trails sparkled like gemstones. Even though I felt like every part of me was ruined, my hair still stayed in its shape and the waterproof makeup did not even struggle in the waterfall of my tears. The cracks were barely recognizable on the surface.

The adrenaline died down and my emotions disappeared, leaving only nothingness as I stared down at the ground emptily. I must have sat there for awhile as the sky slowly started to change from blue to a fiery orange with the setting sun.

“What happened to you?”

I flinched slightly, finally taking in my surroundings and meeting amber eyes, shadowed by wild hair.

“You get stood up at your wedding or something?”

At his words, I quickly looked down again, biting my lip as I tried to stop the tears from building up in my eyes.

“Here,” a water bottle appears in my vision, “I haven’t opened it yet if you’re worried. You look like you could use it.”

I take it from his hands, watching from the corner of my eye as he plops down heavily on the swing beside me, chains groaning in protest at his added weight.

“Thanks. I wasn’t really stood up, though. He waited until after the wedding to cheat.” I chuckled drily, opening up the water to take a sip.

“Sounds like an asshole to me. Why would you even like that guy in first place?”

“He, “ I pause, taking in a breath to hold in my sob, “was never an asshole to me. I never even noticed until I saw him with her.” My hands start to shake slightly, and I tighten my hold on the water in response.

“Well, I think letting a guy like that break you down is lame. You should just shove it in his face how much better off you are without him.”

I turn slightly to look at him. With narrowed eyes, I say, “I dated him for five years. I can’t get over him like that.”

He shrugs, “Then pretend.”

Six years ago I was young, dumb, mostly drunk, and a little bit in love. We were a good looking couple, freshly 21 and a year and a half into dating we just knew we had to live together. I loved him, and I knew it—I wanted everyone to know it. Sometimes I wondered if he was too good to be true, he was just so pretty. He made me laugh, actually he made everyone laugh. He was always the life of the party. He was impulsive and I abandoned all my inhibitions for him. Something that was very unlike me. Also very unlike me, the word soulmate used to make me cringe until I met him. It was his idea to get a place together. But like I said, we were young, dumb, a bit in love, but mostly drunk. One night became an early night for me as I could not see, think, or walk straight anymore. I put myself in a cab and yelled, “I’ll see your gorgeous ass at home baby!” At four o’clock in the morning I felt it. The slight tingle woke me up just barely at first, but then it happened again, this time like electricity powering up my lips. No. Way. I thought. It can’t be, he can’t be. I knew in the fourth grade the first time I had declared out loud that I was in love with Brett Steinem what this tingle meant when I walked in on him kissing Busty Britney in the basement at my birthday party. I was never the same after that. I sat up and tearfully gazed at the empty space next to me in bed. The man I loved never came home. The burning tingle on my lips told me he was kissing someone else. That was six years ago. Today I married a warm, gentle and kind man. He’s a bit more serious, never impulsive. Instead of losing my inhibitions he grounded me. I’m not 21 anymore, it’s what I need. I buried my version of love deep into the back of my heart after the last betrayal. This was the love I needed. Security and trust. I walked down the aisle and disguised my love for him. Lying in bed in our honeymoon suite half asleep and a little bit drunk I feel it. Please, no. Not again. The slight tickle, and then the electrifying tingle. I sit up and tearfully gaze at the space next to me in bed. My husband is snoring lightly next to me. My fingertips move to my lips softly as the tingle I’ve become all too familiar with continues. The word soulmate still makes me cringe, because the man I love is still kissing someone else.