159

The next morning, the hospital felt colder, more clinical than it had the day before. Nurses moved quietly through the halls, and the steady rhythm of the machines was the only soundtrack to the sterile environment.

Yalda watched Alexander get dressed quietly, he seemed exhausted as he buttoned his shirt and she wanted to help him but she didn't want to make him feel bad, and perhaps she just thought he seemed exhausted because she was used to his strength, his effortless grace.

When the car arrived, Yalda waited patiently as Alexander settled into the backseat before she climbed in beside him.

"How are we feeling today, sir." Carl asked when they were settled.

"Much better. Thank you, Carl." Alexander responded. And he wasn't lying, he may not have felt better physically but he was a lot better emotionally and mentally.

The city whirled past the windows in a blur of sound and color, and Yalda found herself staring blankly. Had she missed all this? She wasn't sure, but she was sure she had missed Alexander so much.

The penthouse building loomed ahead, tall and imposing, its glass walls gleaming in the morning light. Perhaps she had missed it too.

As they stepped into the lobby, memories rushed back in waves. The polished marble floors, the soft hum of the elevator, the quiet hum of life around them, it all felt like stepping into a ghost.

Alexander's arm wound around her waist as they reached the door of the penthouse, it was warm and she found herself leaning into him as he unlocked the door and showered her in.

Inside, the familiar scent of cedarwood and leather welcomed them. A wave of nostalgia hit Yalda as she looked around, nothing had changed at all.

For a moment, they just stood there, taking it all in.

“I never thought I’d come back here,” Yalda admitted, her voice catching in her throat. “It’s... so full of memories.”

Alexander nodded, settling into the leather sofa by the window. “Some good, some... not so much.”

She moved to sit beside him, the smooth fabric of the couch cushioning her as she reached out to take his hand once again.

"How are you feeling?" She asked him.

He shrugged.

"Fortunate. Very fortunate." He replied. And he stares into the depths of her eyes for a long time before he spoke again. "I don't have nightmares about my past anymore. I'm free."

And she felt like hugging him so tightly. He'd been through so much, and he'd been strong for so long. She loved him dearly, and she was a fool to have thought that she'd ever stop loving him.

"How?" She croaked.

He looked at her, eyes soft but fierce. “I have no idea."

Yalda nodded, a small smile breaking through the lingering sadness. “I'm so glad to hear that."

The city lights flickered on outside, the world continuing its endless rhythm.

~~

On getting to her room, s realized it was exactly as she’d left it, every detail untouched. The pale lavender walls bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the carefully stacked books on the nightstand, the scent of jasmine.

“How is it still the same?” she asked softly, turning to find Alexander standing behind her, watching with a quiet, almost reverent smile.

“How could I possibly change a thing?” His voice was low, warm, and it stirred something deep inside her.

That small smile tugged at her defenses, and before she could think, Alexander closed the distance between them. His lips met hers with an intensity that stole her breath away, a kiss filled with raw need and long-buried desire.

Yalda’s hands went to his chest, feeling the steady, powerful beat of his heart beneath his shirt. His fingers slid up her back, pulling her closer, as if trying to erase every moment they’d spent apart. Their mouths moved together in a heated rhythm, soft but demanding and hungry.

Heat flared beneath her skin, spreading from the tips of her fingers to the core of her being. She could feel the slick warmth pooling between her thighs, a physical ache that mirrored the ache in her chest. Alexander’s touch was like fire, each brush of his hand igniting a new wave of longing.

His tongue traced the seam of her lips before slipping inside, tasting her with a possessive hunger that sent shivers down her spine. She moaned softly, the sound lost between them, as his hands explored the curves of her body, memorizing the shape that was so achingly familiar, yet somehow new again.

She pressed against him, her breath hitching as she felt the unmistakable hardness of his arousal against her abdomen. Alexander’s hips shifted, the urgent press of his desire a silent promise of what he wanted, what he needed.

Their kisses deepened, slower now, more desperate. The penthouse room seemed to shrink until it was nothing more than a sanctuary for their reunion.

With trembling hands, Yalda reached under his shirt, the rough planes of his chest beneath her fingertips a grounding sensation amid the storm of emotions. Alexander groaned low in his throat, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her even closer.

They moved toward the bed quickly. The promise to not kiss or touch her completely overpowered by the raw desire. They shed their clothes in their fevered rush. 

Her skin tingled where his lips brushed her neck, each kiss a spark that set her nerves alight. Her breath came faster, mingling with his, as his hands roamed down her back and over the swell of her hips.

Yalda’s body arched instinctively, seeking the heat and pressure she craved. She gasped when his mouth captured the hollow of her collarbone, teeth grazing gently, sending a thrill racing through her veins.

The ache between her legs deepened, a delicious torment that made her dizzy with need. Alexander’s hardness pressed insistently against her thigh, a silent plea that echoed the desire pounding in her chest.

But then, just as the heat threatened to consume them both, Alexander pulled back. His eyes searched hersz fierce, vulnerable, full of a thousand unspoken emotions.

"I can't do this." He said. "Not like this."

"Alexander....."

“I want to do right by you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Not just now, but always.”

Yalda’s heart hammered painfully in her chest, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She needed him so badly.

“Yalda,” he breathed, “will you marry me?”

Yalda couldn’t breathe.

Her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow bursts. She couldn’t believe this was happening. He was asking her to marry him.

After everything. After the years of pain, the bitterness, the silence. After all the ways their love had been twisted by time and tragedy.

Alexander, the man who had once broken her heart beyond recognition, was asking her to marry him.

“I know,” he said, his voice low and ragged, “I know this isn’t fair. I know I’m being selfish for trapping you like this. But this… this is the only thing I can give you now. The only thing that still feels right. Let me do this one thing for you, Yalda. Let me love you in the open, just once.”

Her heart twisted, a painful knot of emotion tightening in her chest. Her tears fell silently, warm trails slipping down her cheeks.

“You’ll be free in a month,” he added, and the words nearly undid her. “You won’t have to mourn me like a secret, like some unspoken regret. You can say goodbye as my wife. You can hold your head high and say you were mine. That I was yours.”

Her heart was just as heavy as it was full at the moment. She felt too much at the same time.

“Don’t say that,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Don’t talk like that.”

“It’s the truth,” he replied, gently, as though trying to soften the inevitable. “No more secrets, Yalda. No more letting go of your hand in public, no more pretending there's nothing between us."

Yalda nodded, the tears now flowing freely. She clutched his face in her hands.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, Alexander. I’ll marry you.”

They wrapped themselves around each other in a desperate hug, her face buried in the crook of his neck, his arms locking her in with a kind of fierceness that said he never wanted to let go. 

He leaned back slightly, cupping her face in both hands. His eyes scanned her expression, as if committing her every detail to memory.

“I want you so badly it hurts,” he murmured.

She swallowed hard, her body still humming with the aftershocks of their earlier make-out session. Her skin was flushed, her breasts heavy and aching where his chest pressed against them. Between her thighs, the hunger hadn’t subsided, if anything, it had only intensified, grown sharper, more demanding.

His thumb brushed her bottom lip. “But I won’t fuck you until we’re married. Tomorrow.”

Yalda blinked, stunned. “What?”

He smiled softly. “We’re getting married tomorrow. Before anything happens between us. I want to do it right.”

The finality of his words hit her like a wave.

Tomorrow.

They were getting married tomorrow. And he wouldn’t touch her until then.