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God, she’d said it—the bitter-sweet truth.
“Love is a lie,” she said, wanting to retract her confession.
Anwar advanced toward her. “Says who?”
“Love destroys,” she whispered, shrinking back.
“Says who?” His wide eyes watched Lucy with heated curiosity as he inched closer.
“Love destroys,” Lucy stammered.
“Says who?” His breath fanned her heated face, smelling like Turkish Delight and honey.
“Love hurts like the worst kind of toothache. The only cure is to extract it from your life.”
Anwar reached out to gently caress Lucy's cheek, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. The warmth of his hand against her skin felt like an electric current, igniting a fire within her. She leaned into his touch, her eyes closing momentarily, savoring the sensation. Their connection deepened as Lucy mirrored his gesture and intertwined her fingers with his. They stood there, locked in a silent embrace, their bodies yearning to be closer. Anwar's eyes held a mix of tenderness and desire. His gaze filled with an intensity that left Lucy breathless.
Slowly, Anwar leaned in, his lips hovering just inches away from Lucy's. Their breaths mingled, creating a sweet symphony of anticipation. Time seemed to stand still as they savored the moment, their hearts beating in unison.
And then, in a rush of emotion, their lips finally met. It was a gentle, tender kiss, soft and explorative as if they were discovering each other for the first time. Their mouths moved in perfect harmony, their kiss deepening, fueled by a passion that had been building for far too long.
Lucy felt her body melt into Anwar's, their embrace becoming tighter as if they were afraid to let go. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them lost in their own world of love and desire.
Their kiss spoke a language of longing, trust, and an unspoken promise of a future together. It was a kiss transcending time and space, a moment of pure bliss that would forever be etched in their hearts.
As they finally pulled away, their eyes met again, filled with a newfound connection Lucy felt in the depths of her heart. She felt so confused. It felt like it was just the beginning of a love story that would defy all odds, a love that would flourish and bloom as beautifully as the art Lucy created.
She gazed up at the stars, beseeching the heavens for a sign. She gave a tiny gasp as a star shot across the sky.
“Let’s go to bed,” Anwar murmured, taking her hand in his.
Was it too cliched, too impossible, and too good to be true? Had Anwar and Lucy found something extraordinary—a love that would last a lifetime, she wondered as she allowed herself to be led.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
“Ilove you,” Anwar snuggled closer to Lucy, but instead of embracing him, she lay rigid as marble, her limbs stiffening like sufferingrigor mortis. Her whole body felt stony, stiff, dead. Dead to his declaration of love. Dead to the risk he had taken sharing his heart. Dead to their dreams.
“What’s wrong?“ he asked, his voice fading like a deep, dying breath.Why was this happening?
She clenched her eyes and fisted her fingers.
“What’s wrong?” Anwar asked again.Was she trying to hurt him deliberately?
“I can’t,” she gasped. “I can’t do this.”
“This?” he flew at her, jabbing his heart. “This,” he said, pointing at her belly. “This– is that what you call us? Athis? I love you, Lucy. Can you hear me? I love you. I thought it was what you wanted.”
He hated the desperation in his voice. He hated who he was forcing himself to become. He hated that he couldn’t, wouldn’t, and didn't want to return to the person he once was.He was a philandering playboy who never gave his heart. He had ceded his heart to her, allowed emotions to rule his intellect, and thrown caution to the wild winds. He wanted love, a family, and her. He wanted it all.
“Lucy, speak to me.”
Her hair fell across her face like a gold curtain as she turned from him. She grasped at the sheets and wrapped the silk around her like a cocoon. “I can’t,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you deliberately tormenting me? Is this a game to you?”
“Don’t be cross with me,” she whispered, refusing to face him.
“Oh, right,” he thundered. “Don’t be cross. You’ve scolded me for not sharing my feelings. Now, I share my heart. But rather than reciprocate, you steal my soul. You tell me you can’t or won’t commit.” He raked his shaking hand through his tousled hair.
