By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Non-consensual kiss in this chapter; Panic attacks, depression, suicidal thoughts in other chapters

Status: WIP (7/9)

Summary: Clarke and Lexa led the perfect life. Married, two children, a big house, a group of reliable friends. Until Lexa cheated on her wife and the idyllic picture was smashed to bits. Three months later, Clarke is still trying to put the pieces of her heart together when Lexa slowly comes back into her life. The path to forgiveness will force the artist on a self-introspection journey that won't leave anyone unscathed. But isn't true love worth the fight?

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Chapter 7: Separation And Reconciliation

The music is already on, blasting through the front door by the time Clarke arrives at Octavia and Lincoln’s apartment. Adjusting O’s present under her arm, she rings the bell twice, preparing herself for an evening of wine, loud conversations, embarrassing stories, and more wine. At least it’s not cheap beer and nothing but unhealthy snacks anymore. Her bladder hasn’t been the same since the cop’s 21st birthday. Which was 15 years ago already. Damn. Time flies.

She’s contemplating knocking on the door when it suddenly opens and she’s greeted by dark curly hair and a grin she hasn’t seen in ages.

“Clarke! It’s so good to see you again.” Strong arms wrap around her, and she finds herself pressed against the chest of her old friend a second later. “I can’t believe it’s been three months already.”

She chuckles and extricates herself from the man’s bear hug. “It’s good to see you too, Bell. How are you? O told Raven and me about your breakup with Echo; I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh well.” Bellamy shrugs, running his fingers through his hair. “Don’t worry about it. I liked her, but it wasn’t that serious.”

“I’d better warn the ladies around that Single Bell is ready to mingle then,” she teases before stepping inside the apartment, oblivious to how his eyes follow her.

Octavia greets her with a grin, a wine glass in one hand and Lincoln’s in the other. Happiness looks good on her. Marriage and motherhood made her softer somehow, less abrasive. She is still very vocal about her opinions — nothing on Earth could change that. But she learned to think before she speaks and to take other people’s feelings into consideration. Most of the time.

And Clarke is delighted her friend found love, a kind husband, a career that fulfills her. She knows that the Blakes didn’t always have it easy growing up. Their dad split up before O was born. Money was tight, and they had to grow up faster than anyone should have. Still, a small part of her, the dark, ugly side she tries to ignore on a normal day, can’t help but feel jealous. This should be her, hand-in-hand with Lexa, a smile so big her cheeks hurt. Dancing in the living room among their friends and toasting until they can’t remember anything but good days.

But Lexa isn’t here. She chose to stay home with the twins, not thinking she would be welcome at the party. Not wanting all the attention on her, on them, when their friends — who have all taken Clarke’s side — should be celebrating O’s birthday. The blonde understands; she agreed without making a fuss, not particularly caring to hear everyone’s opinion about how she’s handling the separation. She just wishes it hadn’t come to that.

Soon, the party is in full swing, and everybody is tastefully buzzed. The canapes are delicious, and Clarke makes a mental note to ask Lincoln for the caterer’s name. Not that she thinks she’ll host Thanksgiving dinner, the situation being what it is between Lexa and her, Abby and her, Abby and Lexa… But who knows? Maybe they will all have their shit figured out before Christmas 2030.

Thinking about Lexa brings another wave of emotions that Clarke, with her defenses weakened by the Pinot, struggles to contain. All her regrets, her doubts, her unanswered questions pile up faster than she can handle, threatening to spill from her watery eyes.

Not wanting to become the center of attention, the poor cheated-on wife people will whisper about behind her back, she stumbles into the couple’s room. She sits on Lincoln and Octavia’s bed, wiping away the tears that escaped.

She remains there for a minute, swallowing back her sniffles, head in her hands, when the door opens. Between her fingers, she sees Bellamy walk in hesitantly. The bed dips beside her, and she leans in after one of his arms wraps around her shoulders.

“Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m okay.” A couple more tears roll down her cheeks, the traitors. She hopes that he doesn’t see them. “Just some memories and whatnot. I’ll be fine.”

Bell doesn’t seem convinced, but he lets her have it. His hand rubs circles on her shoulder, comforting her, keeping her close. “It’s okay, Clarke. I know it hurts, but you’re going to be fine. She didn’t deserve you. She never did.”

The blonde frowns at his words and turns around. “No, it’s not like that. She—”

Chapped lips press against hers, stopping the rest of her sentence in her mouth. She can feel his nose pressing against her cheek, his stubble poking her sensitive skin as he puts more pressure into the kiss. Too shocked to react, she doesn’t move until his tongue pushes through her lips, invading her mouth. He tastes like whiskey and tobacco, and it’s the rancidity of it that finally brings her back to her senses.

She pushes on his shoulders with both hands and jerks back, confusion and anger battling on her face. “What the fuck, Bell? What was that?”

Quick question, for Ace/Aro people out there.

Is it possible to love romance stories in movies, shows, and books, while still being aromantic yourself?

I love romance. I love writing romance. I love romantic tropes, the lifelong commitment, the loving gazes, all of that. 

But I’m starting to realise that I’d never want that for myself. And I’m not sure if that’s a self-worth issue or if I’m simply not able to feel strong romantic attraction. The most I’ve ever felt was a passing thought of “that person’s cute.” And I adore my friends so strongly, sometimes, that I may have confused my platonic need to shower them in affection as romantic attraction. 

Any “crushes” I’ve had were pretty shallow, like that girl at the pool who was... cute as hell, but I mean, I didn’t know her at all. And dating has never crossed my mind. At most, I’ve wanted to maybe kiss someone? Or just wanted them to think I’m nice. Or I thought someone was super cool/nice and wanted to impress them.

I feel like I’ve only ever been on the cusp of romantic attraction and have never actually progressed into that territory. I mean, I’m 19, I’m pretty young so that may not be strange, but I thought at this point I would have had at least one crush that I would actually fantasize about dating.

I mean. I got my sexual orientation figured out, at least. I’m definitely bi. But even then, I’ve never fantasized about anyone I’ve met in real life, and never with ME, because I find that super strange. I can’t see myself in romantic or sexual relations with anyone in the future.

Bhagavad Gita Chapter 1: How Arjuna's Grief Becomes the Gateway to Spiritual Evolution

The Bhagavad Gita is not merely an ancient scripture or religious text; it is an timeless "administrative treasure trove" of practical, mento-intellectual wisdom. As detailed in the Prelude to the On Bhagavad Gita Series, this historic text unfolds as a dialogue in the midst of a crisis—positioned right on the war-field of Kurukshetra between a master of enlightened intelligence (Sri Krishna) and a sincere, yet temporarily deluded mind (Arjuna).

But why does this great spiritual epic begin with a chapter dedicated entirely to sorrow, dejection, and tears?

In Bhagavad Gita Chapter 1: Arjuna-viṣāda-yoga, we witness a profound truth: grief, when met with sincere introspection, can be transformed into the ultimate path of yoga.

The Sacred Setting: Why Kurukshetra Matters

The dialogue begins not in a quiet forest or a peaceful temple, but amidst the deafening sounds of conch shells and marching armies. In Bhagavad Gita Verse 1.1, King Dhritarashtra asks Sanjaya to report what is unfolding at Kurukshetra-referred to as Dharma-kshetra, the land of righteousness and spiritual austerity.

This setting reminds us that our own lives are a daily battlefield (Kurukshetra). We frequently encounter inevitable conflicts, moral dilemmas, and difficult choices. It is within these intense, real-world interactions that our spiritual strength is truly tested.

Understanding "Arjuna-Viṣāda-Yoga"- Transforming Grief into Yoga

The word viṣāda translates to dejection, grief, or deep sorrow. Yet, this chapter is titled Arjuna-Viṣāda-Yoga. How can intense suffering be called "Yoga"?

Ordinary grief usually leads to depression, bitterness, or mental paralysis. However, as Swami Bhoomananda Tirtha explains, sorrow becomes Yoga when it triggers:

Deep Introspection: Questioning the transitory nature of worldly gains and relationships.

A Search for Truth: Realizing the limitations of our own ego-driven choices.

Surrender: Sincerely opening our hearts to a higher wisdom or guide, just as Arjuna did with Sri Krishna.

Rather than running away from his painful feelings, Arjuna allowed his grief to dismantle his ego, initiating a powerful inner evolution.

The Crumbling of External Resources (Verses 1.28–1.30)

Before the war began, Arjuna was the epitome of human excellence—a legendary archer of unparalleled fame, holding the mighty bow, Gandiva. Yet, when positioned between the two armies, he was forced to look upon his grandfather Bheeshma, his teacher Drona, and his beloved relatives.

Suddenly, his formidable physical and intellectual strength collapsed. In Bhagavad Gita Verse 1.28–30, we read of his harrowing physical and psychological breakdown: his limbs fail, his skin burns, his mind whirls, and his legendary bow slips from his hand.

In his commentary, Swami Bhoomananda Tirtha highlights a critical spiritual truth: No amount of external possessions, bodily strength, or intellectual cleverness can rescue us when we face fundamental existential crises. When our worldly support structures crumble, we are forced to ask a deeper question: Is there an inner, imperishable presence within us that remains untouched by external circumstances?

The Turning Point of Surrender (Verse 1.47)

Arjuna’s despair reaches its absolute peak at the end of the chapter. In Bhagavad Gita Verse 1.47, Sanjaya describes Arjuna casting away his bow and arrows, collapsing onto the seat of his chariot, his mind utterly drowned in grief.

While this looks like a total defeat to the external world, spiritually, it was the ultimate victory. By throwing down his weapons, Arjuna stopped trying to resolve his internal conflict with outward, physical means. He became completely vulnerable, setting the perfect stage to receive the immortal spiritual instructions that follow.

From Dejection to Contemplation: Moving to Chapter 2

Arjuna's profound dejection in Chapter 1 was the essential soil in which the seeds of wisdom could grow. This initial breakdown paved the way for Sri Krishna to introduce the sublime science of the Soul in Bhagavad Gita Chapter 2: Sāṅkhya-yoga.

In Chapter 2, Sri Krishna begins his exposition by steering Arjuna’s focus away from the decaying, perishable body and pointing him toward the eternal, unchanging, and blissful Self (Atma) that resides within us all.

Key Takeaways: How to Apply Chapter 1 in Daily Life

Do Not Fear Your Struggles: If you are experiencing confusion, anxiety, or grief, view it as an invitation to look inward. Evolution begins the moment we start to deeply reflect on our life's challenges.

Recognize the Limits of Material Pursuits: Money, status, and physical comfort cannot provide lasting peace or inner resilience during life's inevitable storms.

Seek Wise Guidance: Like Arjuna, be sincere enough to open your heart to truth. Cultivate a receptive, humble mind that is ready to learn and adapt.

Inquire Further into the Wisdom of the Gita

I am an enigma, even to myself. Who is this woman gazing back at me in the mirror? What does she seek from me, and what do I truly wish to become? As I reflect on the past [redacted] years of my life, a wave of embarrassment, confusion, and sorrow washes over me. How often have I let my ego, anger, and the shadows of my sexual and psychological traumas steer the course of my decisions?

Yet, when I close my eyes and envision my higher self, she appears radiant—fashionable, joyful, and free. She is deeply educated, encircled by love, magnetic in her presence, and utterly unashamed. She is unapologetically herself, a star burning with purpose and light. But here I am, entangled in fear, insecurity, and anger.

This month—and the entirety of 2025—I devote to uncovering the truth of who I am, untangling the threads of my identity from the opinions and expectations of others. Who am I when no one is looking? What do I desire? Who do I wish to be? What are the dreams, values, and goals that will guide me toward my own emergence into the sun and full bloom?

I know this much: I am powerful. I am a woman destined for greatness, a force of transformation on this earth. I carry within me the ability to make the impossible possible, to clear away the weeds and murky waters of life so that others may rise above their suffering and step boldly into their God-given purpose. Some call it the gift of a road opener, and I am only now beginning to embrace the weight and wonder of that role. But how can I lead others to themselves if I remain a stranger to my own soul?

This revelation began as a seed sown in the warmth of summer, its roots now anchoring themselves in my consciousness. I am learning, at last, to know and love the woman within. This is the beginning of a journey to craft a life of authenticity, independence, and true freedom—a life that blooms in harmony with my essence.

I carry within me the ability to make the impossible possible, to clear away the weeds and murky waters of life so that others may rise above their suffering and step boldly into their God-given purpose.

I am not who I thought I was, but over the course of this new year, I hope to come to know myself in a deeply loving and transformative way. From seed to full bloom, I am willing to destroy the old parts of me, rip every petal I have to expose seedpod, to make space for the growing of something new. No more lies—I want to cultivate an authentic and ever-growing version of myself, one who is fearless, loving, and kind.