Reuniting with my twin flame – Ultimate rejection

Twin flames and Soul mates union - Chantal Peguiron

A few days later we were again in the train, a long distance train this time

the night trains had been interrupted on our tracks for two months in Germany because of an incident, so we decided to halt in Heidelberg for the night and visit the town

during the trip we felt all kinds of money anguishes, as Chantal and me had both stopped our jobs, anguishes related to where to take our meals, and so on

but it was also beautiful to see the sunset piercing the grayness from the castle top, laying its dying lights over the town and the river and the nearby plain

The next day we were in the Netherlands again, in my twin’s town

we had brought her a walnut cake as it was her birthday

we tried to find her house following the address she had once given to Chantal but we got lost and the sky poured heavy showers on our heads and completely soaked our clothes and shoes

and when we finally found her room, we discovered she was not at home, after all the initial anguish of knocking on her door, as she wasn’t expecting us

we went back to the our hostel and had the consolation of having the kitchen for half an hour to cook a plate of warm pasta and changing into dry clothes before sleeping

The next day she wasn’t there either, nor the following day, and the cake was still on her door handle, untouched

That day, Sunday, I had the intuition of going to her birth town in the end of the afternoon

The sky was gray and drizzling and we let our feet guide us there without knowing where we were going

and suddenly I saw a secondary school and recognized it for being hers as I knew its name, and we stopped there for a moment as on a pilgrimage

then we continued walking, and the alleys with small houses were familiar in a way, awakening small emotions in me

and we arrived in front of a tiny primary school, I had no idea if she had studied there

but as we came closer my eyes started filling with tears, and we pushed the door of the courtyard and it opened

and we climb the external staircase of steel and there on top with a view on all the rooftops and the trees of the neighborhood I started crying like I had never cried

and after a while Chantal started crying with me

I was feeling an enormous sadness but it felt good that I was finally able to express it, shed it

We spent a long moment this little island of peacefulness, heaven on the ocean of troubles where my twin navigated when she was a child and her parents divorced and her home shattered

and when we left I felt I didn’t want to leave, and I came back and huddled against the corner of two walls and cried there

I felt I didn’t want to move, that this school was the only safe place in the world

The next day, Monday, we finally met her when we visited her, she opened us the door and shoved us in

the first moments were a little bit awkward as she had told me in her previous email that we wouldn’t set foot in her room, and now she was the one inviting us in, albeit in a little abrupt way

we started staring in each other eyes, there was an element of confrontation but not as much as I expected

I felt all her face rigid and tight around the mouth as if she blocked her sadness, refrained from crying

she was listening to a quiet music and had lit a little candle before we had arrived

After the initial moment of staring she took my hand, saying that in this way emotions would be conveyed to her, it was the first time she touched my hand with hers

she also took Chantal’s hand after a while, and she literally listened to our emotions, just looking into our eyes and being still

Later she rose and placed her hands on my head, I didn’t feel a lot of sensations in those moments, but Chantal told me a lot of things were happening the face of my twin was illuminated, and Chantal too was feeling a warmth spreading in her body

Then my twin showed me her childhood drawing of the little faerie town in the water lilies and the mushroom tree, this drawing she had destroyed, and had drawn again from memory

and when I saw it I started crying again, and she told me it was mine as no one had ever shown so much emotion in front of one of her drawings

after, Chantal started exploring my twin’s room and I followed her in a half-hearted way as I felt too much sadness

she had many pieces of paper on the wall above her bed, with the synopsis and random ideas and sketches about the world she was building

her room was very creative, beautiful, she had built shelves with empty glass bottles as pillars

she had many novels, many fantasy and historical ones, many of the ones we had discussed about previously

and from her window was a beautiful view on tall trees agitated by a strong breeze and a little canal that resembled a river underneath

and we almost felt nature was at the doorstep of her room

At a certain point Chantal found a little rabbit over the shelves and took it and gave it to me, and when I saw it and touched it I started crying again

I wanted to kiss it but I didn’t dare, I simply held it and hugged it

Then I went toward my twin who had come forward and gave it to her, and hugged her

I felt that she was wearing sort of a breast plate so much her chest was hard against mine

that day she was wearing constraining clothes with tights and high heels, and it didn’t look at all like her true self

after a few seconds between my arm she detached herself and set back the tiny rabbit on her shelf, telling Chantal that he had been her friend during her childhood, during the divorce

from then on I cried a lot, feeling again all what I had felt the day before in her primary school

I sat down to cry, while my twin prepared the supper

she cut an onion, a garlic, a bell pepper and an eggplant, and cooked them with rice

when it was ready she called us but I didn’t move, I couldn’t move, so heavy was the sadness upon me, and she said she was hungry so she started eating with Chantal

and between each slow bite, she looked at me, and I felt her face tight with sadness and repression

after a while she came toward me and gave me her hand to rise and she prayed me to come

I couldn’t refuse, even if it wasn’t the right thing to do, so I rose and sat with them at the table

but I was still crying for a long moment before being able to eat

Once I started eating my twin was already finished and she rose to start putting order in the kitchen, and she told me to speak up, she said my silence was not helping

she started getting angry at me, and she threatened to put me out if I didn’t speak

I laughed, I laughed because I felt like, we were mirroring one another, her anger was so absurd

it made her even angrier, but then after a while she quieted

I understood that I had dammed my emotions by coming to sit at the table, and in a way it had angered her, against herself, against me, but it all was quite convoluted

after the supper, Chantal asked her if she could show us her drawings

and she agreed

She had drawn more than I would have imagined, and all her drawings were laden with meanings and symbolisms

I sat cross-legged and they sat too on the floor, while she showed us her drawings that for the most had been done when she was a teen

One of them pictured her climbing a long tortuous flight of stairs, leaving a few boys in the back, as though they symbolized her previous relationships

she had almost reached the top of the stairs where she was heading too, a sort of a plateau

on the side there was a serpent and a boy in the same position as I was, meditating, or doing the kundalini as the serpent is a symbol of its energy

there was also a small rabbit from the other side and other elements I don’t remember

She showed us another drawing with a happy couple hugging one another under a portal as though they had just been married, and a little girl watching them eagerly

on the back of the page she had drawn the same girl, her head cupped in her hands, crying

Another drawing she showed us showed half the face of a dark haired boy, the other half of a fair haired girl that seemed a couple of years younger, on both extremities of the page, with a building in between that resembled her school

and Chantal asked my twin if the boy wasn’t me, and the girl her, when we were much younger, and my twin was slightly embarrassed by the question

finally she showed us a face of an emperor she had drawn, but his face was very tensed like my face when the kundalini rages there, and again Chantal noticed the similarity and pointed it out, but my twin cut her off and said it was just a copy

Chantal was pointing out things that my twin wasn’t ready to hear, especially that she had drawn all these drawings many years before meeting me

Afterwards my twin said she was exhausted, it was past ten already, but we didn’t do any motion to rise from the floor

so she rose and she brought the drawing of her childhood and she selected a stem with white roses she gave me

she told me that for the first time in her life for her birthday she had bought herself flowers

and I forgot to mention the drawing she showed us where she was giving a white flower to the boy she had loved at school

in reality, she had loved him for three years from afar never telling him about her feelings, and when she had thought of writing him a Valentine letter, she found out he was already engaged

then after giving me her drawing and the white rose, she picked a red rose and gave it to Chantal, as though she had read Chantal’s thoughts who an instant before had wished she too was offered a rose

I told my twin the drawing was hers and I couldn’t take it, I replaced it on her table, and I replaced the bough with all the white roses, and took only one that I pressed in my writing book

she hugged me, then she hugged Chantal, then she hugged me again, always anguished, at the same time coming toward me, while being afraid to melt between my arms

Chantal asked her when we’d see her again, and my twin replied surely not this week, we were only Monday, and we heard that with disappointment, we didn’t imagine staying one other week in the Netherlands

and she asked us if we had done tourism, and when we said we weren’t there for that, she told us she hoped we’d be able to visit a bit of the Netherlands

The next day I wrote her in the morning, describing my sadness in her birth town

We went to ******* on Sunday afternoon. We let our feet guide us. The storm was looming closer. We ended up in front of **** school, and then we found our way to another small school that we imagined was yours. And we cried and cried there. We climbed on the steel stairs in the inner courtyard and listened to the winds and it was reassuring in a way to be there, huddled between one facade of the school with its red tiles and its windows resembling those of a miniature cathedral and the open view on many almost identical small houses with their little gardens, and the tall trees surrounding what looked like a tiny, warm, peaceful village. An island of red surrounded by a belt of green, protecting us from the dark storm to come. We stayed there a long time, catching a glimpse of a detail here and another there. And there was a fairy garden close to the school with butterflies and hanging bags and little creatures. The herbs that grew between the tiled floor of the small court were touching little sprout of green in an otherwise barren place. And then we went away, but I didn’t want to go. As soon as I passed through the door of steel, I wanted to come back, to come back to the protective walls of the school. And I came back and the tears flooded and I wanted to huddle in a corner, my face against the wall, under the porch. It was the only place of safety left in the world.


And I wrote her about the sadness I felt in her room too, calling my missive A vain hopeless dream

There is so much sadness stored, hidden, in your place. In every glass bottle, in every bibelot, in cards of wishes, in your flowers even. Sadness.

Why, why are you so sad? So hopelessly sad that you have to bury it in objects? Don’t you believe there is happiness in store for you too in this life?

There is sadness too, in your bathroom, in the beauty products, the creams for dry hands. Sadness, sadness, sadness. In the warm carpet even.

There is sadness in your kitchen, in the way you cut the vegetables, in your slow, gracious, movements. In the many knifes you have. In the many devices you use. In the music you listen too.

There is sadness on your window sill, in the plants that are alive, and in those which are dead. They all are as unhappy and hopeless as you are. Sad, grimy, that the fall is coming.

There is sadness on your walls even. In the stories and characters that lie there unwritten. They are dampened with this hopelessness too. Bounded on little pieces of paper.

What about all the notebooks that stand in row, unopened, unseen. Covered with written words and drawn images and yet unfulfilled, incomplete.

And all the drawings that hide in your pad, that speak of hopes and feelings long forgotten, colorless or painted with pale colors. Because it is foolish to hope.

And in your rabbit, your little rabbit that I wanted to hug but didn’t dare to, didn’t know how. Expressionless and yet so full of emotions, of sadness. Tiny, tiny, tiny in size, and yet so generous in heart.

And in your clothes, and on your body. So uncomfortable. For others and not for yourself. Sad, sad, sad to have given up on yourself.

Sadness, in each of your slow movement. And in your face, in your eyes, on your cheeks and on your mouth. A face that wants to be itself but can’t, can’t. A face that wants to offer compassion. A face that wants to feel again. To be alive truly. But it all is a vain, hopeless, dream.

Chantal wrote her as well a small message, telling her one day she’d be with me like in the drawing she had done of the happy couple, that happiness was still possible

My twin replied to Chantal telling her never, never, it will never happen, make him understand that, never

She seemed completely panicked and I felt her worry too, after a moment of warmth and peacefulness early morning

We tried coming back in the evening, but she wasn’t in her room, and we waited for her all evening long, and at a certain point we were so bored of waiting I suggested Chantal to draw on her door

that made Chantal enthusiast as she’d never had so large a canvas, and she drew a large flower from which a bewitching girl stemmed, trying to reach the moon

At a certain point we decided to leave and return to our hostel, and in fact we were well synchronized with my twin as she returned less than twenty minutes after our departure

she wrote Chantal telling her she was sorry but had to erase her drawing as she didn’t want to have problems with the residence where she lived, and she told us to go back to our homes, because we had too much of a faerie soul for a country like the Netherlands

Her sentence didn’t make much sense, except that she was pushing as away again

And the next morning I made a dramatic decision, that not to reserve the next night at the hostel, and instead to go try to sleep at my twin’s place before leaving the next morning and going back to Switzerland, so that we’d get to see her a last time

I had this intuition we needed to help her unlock all this sadness before leaving, as it had happened during my first trip to the Netherlands

So we took our luggage and left them in front of her door while we went strolling during the day

I had a good feeling, with a lot of resolve and strength, as though she too had been making dramatic decisions in her life

but just before going to check whether she had arrived home, I had an anguished feeling, and we crossed her under her building walking in fast strides, barely launching to us she had put our luggage in the staircase and that we should go away, and disappearing

we were shocked, we went up the stairs and found our luggage, and brought them back in front of her door where we sat down

after all, we were used to confrontations, and she probably needed to be angry before crying, like a thunderstorm, or that was our reasoning

She unexpectedly came back twenty minutes later, with a boy

they passed us launching us dark gazes, and she told us to go away, that we were not invited, and they closed the door of her room disappearing inside, they were carrying with them a pack of beers

there I started feeling desperate, and I remembered my vision of one year and a half ago when she was with the vulture and had needed to cheat on me to relive how her mother had cheated on her father, to inflict this wound to me, and by extension to herself, as though she was redoing to me what her parents had done to her when she was a kid, and then she had started crying in my vision, shedding torrents of tears, and I hoped that would happen with the boy, if they were planning to have sex

we waited in front of the room, we had no other option, going back to Switzerland in these conditions would have been hellish because each single day I felt the weight of her studies, the weight of her emotions

It was time to give her back what belonged to her

Ten minutes later they came back out of the room and told us to go, she with anger, the boy with an unnerving rational discourse

I told him we knew her better than he did, he replied still, she doesn’t want you

Suddenly my twin became enraged and she grabbed all our belongings and went down the four floors and threw them outside

then she came back and told us to move, we didn’t

she looked toward Chantal and asked her to pardon her for what she was going to do

she grabbed me from the collar of my shirt and pulled me along the corridor, on the floor, opened the door and threw me out

I wasn’t angry, just shocked physically more than mentally, and sad

she stopped before the stairs saying she wasn’t going to throw me from the stairs, and disappeared

Chantal was shocked and started crying and I had to hug her and reassured her

she blamed herself for not reacting, for not stopping my furious twin

I told her what should happen had happened, and for the first time ever my twin had fully embraced her anger and her violence

and she could have done it only with someone as understanding and loving as her own twin

what was happening was positive, really positive, even if it brought us sufferings

we sat in the staircase and waited, drawing and writing, we had no other place where to go and there was a storm outside

later we intuited she had a game of dungeons and dragons with three other friends of her

three or four hours later they finished, and we thought they’d use the other staircase, but no, they passed in front of us, her friends who were leaving, launching us a dark deprecatory gaze

one of her I recognized from the pictures I had seen, was her childhood’s friend, and I would have expected better from her as she had seemed to me quite artistic and sensitive

we thought the storm had passed, but it didn’t as my twin in person came and saw us in the stairs, her face not quite herself, distorted by determined fear more than anger

anger was beautiful and fierce but fear was ugly

I felt afraid too when she started dialing the cops number, and she didn’t leave us time to protest before putting her threat into execution

and we had to flee, and we found another hidden corner in the building where to spend the night one floor upstairs, because there was a storm outside and we had no place where to go

and still I believed it couldn’t end in this way, as apart from the fear of her phone call, I had really good sensations

I wrote her a short provocative message telling her that despite everything I still loved her, and she saw it immediately and replied to drop dead and never write her again

my consolation was that I knew that she wouldn’t sleep if I didn’t sleep, so closely our emotions are related

and indeed one hour later, we heard a door banging, and a rapid, furious footstep going down the stairs, then up again, with a second person, and we heard her voice, with that of a boy

probably the same boy we had seen at first she had called to forget everything in bed for a moment

and barely twenty minutes later we heard him already leaving

and that was it

we tried to sleep but it was too cold and uncomfortable

so Chantal and me decided to leave all our belongings there, including the broken honey pot my twin had caused, ruining parts of our provisions

and we went to the other part of the town nearby a small lake and a little forest where we strolled, and arrived just before dawn started illuminating our sleepless night

the colors were stunning, violent hues of blues and orange

when the sky had grayed again to announce perpetual rain, we moved and paid ourselves a breakfast in the first tea room that opened in all the town, and then got back to take our belongings, and returned to a coffee place where to nap before taking our train

but there I didn’t feel at ease, I couldn’t just go away after all what had happened

it was only a matter of time until she’d realize and cry

and there Chantal noticed she had blocked her on whatsapp and I assumed she had blocked me too, well, it didn’t mean anything except that she was still angry

that was what happened our first time in the Netherlands before she cried, the harsh confrontations and rejections

Chantal wanted to leave, she was fed up and dispirited with all this situation

I wanted to stay, at the end we agreed to stay one more day to sleep in a warm and comfortable bedroom

and we found a caravan in a hotel, in the middle of a little garden close to a fountain, and as it was Chantal’s dream to once inhabit in a caravan she retrieved her enthusiasm

With Chantal we were continuing to be physically attracted and act on that physical attraction, and there was a discrepancy between what I asked from my twin, and how I acted

Except I told to myself Chantal was related to my twin too, and my twin had thanked her many times of healing me, of healing us, and I wasn’t going with her just to forget my pain and this love

and yet deep down I felt there was something wrong, that as long as I’d not find completeness within myself, nor would my twin

but those thoughts were very weak respect to all the tiredness and the anguish we had accumulated

we ate for the first time in an Indonesian restaurant that night on Chantal’s encouragement, as that’s from where the painter comes from, and I loved it despite being quite picky about food usually

The next day I had a really good feeling in the morning, I felt I needed to tell my twin I loved her looking in her eyes, because I had never had the courage of doing that

and I picked a small bought of red berries, and wrote a tiny missive on paper, and we tried to visit her in the evening but she wasn’t there

we tried again at night, without more success, she probably had returned to spend the weekend with her parents, especially after all that had happened

and we had done the mistake of not reserving a room to spend the night early enough, and there weren’t night trains, and deep down I had still hoped to see my twin

so for the second time we had to spend the night without a roof over our heads and it was drizzling too this time

we went into a pub, the type of place with music so loud we need to shout, the type of place we hadn’t stepped in for a long time

and we danced a bit and ate whatever we found there, until an hour before dawn when they said they were closing

dawn was less glorious than the previous time as it was raining and we just paced in the narrow streets of the city by the canal, and from a bridge I threw to the waters the red berries bough and my short missive I wanted to give her

I felt invaded by a drenching sadness, and even my hopes were dimming because of how tired and cold I was

And Chantal too felt as badly as I felt and reproved me of having made her stay

but at the same time she had felt very intense things during this week in the Netherlands, and it surely wasn’t a mistake to have come, even though our fate was so harsh

the next morning as we warmed ourselves in a coffee place, rebuked several times by the waitress because we were falling asleep, we had this discussion of whether to stay or leave for good

I decided to write to my twin as a last, desperate attempt to inverse the course of our trip, and I put the painter in copy so at least a friendly ear would show us some compassion

Afterwards both me and Chantal felt a warmth in our heart, and Chantal looked down and found an Indonesian coin, which was a wink from the painter

and then just before leaving for the station, I saw that someone had written me

my heart missed a beat but it was not my twin, but Chantal’s twin, telling us that life could change fast, very fast from one extreme to another

in other words he was telling us to hope, to stay

and that’s what we did, agreeing that we wouldn’t try anymore to see my twin, but follow her recommendation of doing some tourism

we went to her natal town for one night, then we moved to a little natural reserve nearby where we found a small hostel

and we slept there for several nights, walking in the forest along the small and large dykes, picking up some apples and pears, some wild mushrooms, renting bikes and going visit a site with many windmills and we felt quite at peace

except for the slight money anguish we had as we would never have imagined to spend two weeks in the Netherlands

but still we made it through, oxygenating our minds and our bodies, visiting a part of the Netherlands we had never seen, then the last afternoon we returned to Delft, rented a room and tried for the last time to see my twin but she wasn’t home

and so the next morning we left, and needed to pass by France since the night trains were still interrupted

and we made it safely to Lausanne, and when I stepped outside the train I felt a renewed determination to become the person I dreamt to become, with the sensation our trip of the Netherlands, despite the wreck with my twin, had been really positive and that in due time our communication would resume and the wall between us would crumble


“Twin flames and soul mates union” and “Dragon” are two drawings by Chantal Peguiron

You can continue your reading with the next chapter of this story Rediscovering Painting

Instead if you’re new here, you can start reading this story from the beginning with chapter 1 – The Dream, or the previous chapter Dance of Emotions


About Erik Vincenti Zakhia

Dear all, I will share with you many of my poems, short stories, drawings and paintings telling of my journey of self-discovery and my reflections about life, love, art, spirituality, sexuality, kundalini rise, and twin flames. You will also come across many paintings by Chantal Peguiron that are intimately related to my artwork. They all fall within the realm of Hazen. If you like it, don’t hesitate to subscribe and follow me on social media! May you have an inspiring visit!


  1. Pingback: Reuniting with my twin flame – Dance of Emotions | Erik Vincenti Zakhia

  2. Je n’ai pas encore lu, tu sais,
    mais j’aime voir mon dessin de là bas avec le romarin encore fleurit

    Liked by 1 person

  3. So touching. My eyes filled with tears while I read this at the airport of Amsterdam


  4. ❤️ Yes on my way to Lisbon!


  5. Pingback: Reuniting with my twin flame – Rediscovering Painting | Erik Vincenti Zakhia

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