“I spent four months,” I correct softly, “trying to bring back something you love.”
Her eyes overflow then, tears clinging to her lashes. My chest tightens painfully.
“Sitara—”
She steps closer. “Close your eyes.” The command is soft, but it sends a shiver straight down my spine.
“What?”
“Close your eyes,” she repeats, her voice lower now, closer. “Trust me.”
I don’t hesitate. Darkness floods in, and suddenly every sensation sharpens. I’m aware of her proximity, the warmth of her body, the faint scent of her shampoo. I hear her inhale, feel the brush of her breath against my lips as I feel hers on mine. It’s so gentle that I almost feel like it's a dream. It’s brief. Feather-light. Almost hesitant.
But, by the way I can hear my loud heartbeat, I know this is real. My breath catches so hard it feels like my lungs forget whatthey’re supposed to do. By the time my mind catches up, she’s already pulling away, her fingers slipping from my chest.
When I open my eyes, she’s flushed pink from head to toe, refusing to look at me.
“I—” she clears her throat and turns back to the table. “I just… thank you.”
I can’t move. I can barely think.
Sitara kissed me.
Well, I won’t count it as a kiss, but something’s better than nothing? She pecked me. Just like that. No buildup. No warning. As if it was the most natural thing in the world.
She picks up the spoon with trembling fingers and takes a bite. I watch her face like my life depends on it. Her eyes close as her shoulders lift.
A small moan escapes her lips, and something like pure, unfiltered joy dances through her body. I laugh under my breath despite the battle going on inside me.
“You like it,” I say.
She opens her eyes, grinning now, cheeks flushed. “It’s not the same.”
My heart sinks.
“But,” she adds quickly, “it’s perfect.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
She takes another bite, slower this time, savoring it. Watching her enjoy it—really enjoy it—does something dangerous to me. It strips me bare, leaves me exposed in ways I’ve never been before.
I am gone.
Completely.
Hopelessly.
Watching her smile over a dessert I fought the world for feels like the highest victory I’ll ever know.
If this woman ever asks me for anything—anything at all—I will give it to her without question. Power. Wealth. My name. My crown.
My life.
I watch her, cheeks pink, eyes shining, completely unaware of the devotion quietly carving itself deeper into my bones.
And I know, with terrifying certainty—There is nothing I wouldn’t burn for her.
Breathlessness
