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He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the box in his hands. He licked his lips nervously before continuing. "I just wanted you to have this."
He flipped the box open to reveal a delicate diamond necklace. The gem glittered brightly in the dim light, reflecting hues of blues and greens. "As a reminder that...that you're not alone. That we're all with you, every step of the way."
My breath hitched as I stared at the necklace, then back up at Hassan. "I know I'm not alone."
"I don't want to lie to you," he said. "I wish it was me up there, waiting for you. But I understand that it's a privilege that I get to have you at all. And please, don't tell Bash, I don't want to offend him or anything."
I reached out, placing my hand over his. "Hassan," I began, my voice thick with emotion. "You won't offend anyone. And believe me, I feel privileged to have you in my life too."
Tears welled up in his eyes as he gave me a short nod. He carefully took the necklace from the box and began to clasp it around my neck.
“I know I don’t talk about this much,” he started, “but where I’m from…a man gives a set of gifts to his woman when they get married. This is just the first–to tell you that I’ll provide for you and care for you, even though you legally belong to Bash.”
“I don’t…”
“Just let me do this,” he whispered. The clasp clicked shut like a promise, then he stepped back to look at me, eyes fixed on the jewel nestled in the hollow of my throat.
My heart sank. "I wish I could tell you I won't go through with this," I said. "I know it makes you uncomfortable, I just..."
He shook his head. "I know what needs to happen. I want you to be happy."
"Hassan, look at me. You make me happy."
His gaze met mine, earnest and a little bit lost. "You're supposed to be telling that to your groom," he said with a weak smile.
"I will," I assured him. "But it doesn't mean it's any less true for you."
"I feel so stupid. They're all so happy to share you, and sometimes, all I want is to have you all to myself. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be thinking about this when you're literally about to get married," he said.
"Hassan," I began, my voice shaky. "Your feelings aren't stupid. They're natural. And I love you for them.”
He pressed a soft kiss to the shell of my ear. "I want you to have everything, though. If that means other men, then that's okay. I just wish I knew how to share better."
His words were thick, choked with emotion, but they were honest. Raw in a way that made my heart clench. I turned around to reach up, my fingers gently tracing his jawline.
"You're doing just fine, Hassan," I whispered, hoping to convey all the honesty and sincerity I felt in those simple words. "You're...more than okay. How can I make this easier for you?"
His dark eyes roved over my face, down toward my chest. "Can I fuck you? Right now?"
"In my wedding dress?" I asked, my cheeks burning as I held back a smile.
He tilted his head, as if considering. "Yes."
I didn't know whether to laugh or scold him. Instead, I ended up grinning at the ridiculousness of the question. "You are insane."
"Is that a no?"
I shook my head. "Don't mess up my hair, and don't mess up my dress."
Hassan grinned. His eyes lit up with a spark of mischief. "I promise to be very, very careful."
In the next moment, he was on me, his strong arms cradling my body against his as he leaned in to capture my lips in a passionate kiss. It was heated, desperate, filled with all the unsaid words and hushed feelings we kept buried.
"Justice," Hassan whispered against my lips. He slid a hand down my back, fingertips just barely brushing against the fabric of my dress. I shivered under his touch, my heart pounding in my chest as I clung onto him.
"Do it," I breathed out.
And Hassan did just that.
