It had been a month since I began my job at CVS. Since the internship, Seti had gotten married and was now five months pregnant with her first baby. We’d spend a few minutes chatting when our shifts ran back-to-back, so she knew how things had gone with Maziar’s family.
Weeks passed, but Maziar never attempted to reach out to his mother or sister. At first, Bita made frequent attempts to contact him, but after his persistent refusal to speak to her, it had dwindled. In their absence, the two of us had fallen into a nice rhythm of playing house. I’d head to his apartment after work and we’d spend the rest of the evening together, making dinner and cuddling on the couch like newlyweds. I would sleep at home most nights, though, to keep my parents’ reprimanding to a minimum. They were supportive, but still had a tough time accepting that I was spending the night with a man out of wedlock. However ridiculous it was at my age, I tried to keep the sleepovers to a minimum.
Maziar was on his way to healing. With physical therapy, he was able to get around on his own. We still hadn’t been intimate since we’d rekindled our relationship, both acting like apprehensive teenagers afraid of rejection. The love between us was obvious, the desire tangible, and I was restless. I eagerly anticipated getting over our new-found shyness.
One Friday night, I’d been working later than usual and was exhausted when I got to his house. I slowly dragged my body out of the car and made the short walk to his door. I was still fumbling through my purse looking for my keys when Maziar opened the door.
He’d been home for a little while, so he was dressed in a pair of black sweats and a white T-shirt, his hair slicked back and wet from his shower. His skin had become even more tanned over the past few weeks, and he shimmered beneath the outdoor light. His eyes sparkled as he flashed me his beautiful smile, making my heart quicken as it always did.
He leaned in and took my bags, gently kissing my lips in the process. I felt a small spark as they touched mine, radiating down my torso and into my fingertips. I buzzed with the closeness of him.
He moved aside to allow me through the door. I was instantly enveloped by the smell of food cooking on the stove. I looked over and saw that he’d set the dining room table, two candles burning in its center. A bottle of wine was already open and sitting on the counter, flanked by two glasses. Maziar came around, placing my stuff on the couch, then walked into the kitchen to turn down the flame.
“Go shower and change while I finish dinner. It’ll be done in a few minutes,” he ordered playfully, eyes still twinkling.
I walked into the bedroom in a daze, my desire to be wrapped around his body growing by the second. As I stepped under the hot water, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to imagine him beside me, his hand running down the side of my body, his lips laying a path of kisses behind them. I had to breathe to avoid shuddering silently under the water, alone. When I finished, I put on a lacy bra and panties beneath my yoga pants and tank top in hopes that something would happen between us.
When I made my way back to the kitchen, Maziar had poured us two glasses of wine and was now dishing our food onto the plates. He’d made khoresteh ghaymeh, split pea stew, and white rice. I didn’t know he could make Persian food.
“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve,” he said, reading my expression. He kissed my cheek as he walked past me. “I’m hoping to show you some of the others later tonight.”
I felt the heat explode inside me as I saw the desire in his eyes. My face felt hot and I wondered if I were blushing. I walked over to the table and took my seat across from him, grabbing our wine glasses along the way.
He sat down across from me and took a sip, eyes intently burning into me as if he were looking right through my skin. I wondered if my need for him could be seen bursting out of me, a pattern of desire and lust spread across the wall behind me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He broke the trance, turning his gaze toward his plate as he grabbed his fork and spoon. I felt hot and flustered, trying to keep the red from invading my cheeks.
“I hope you like it,” he said, as he put a spoonful of the stew into his mouth.
I looked down at my plate, fumbling with my own utensils as I tried regaining my composure. He watched me intently loading my spoon as I took a bite, balancing on the edge of his seat like a little kid, waiting to see my reaction. I found it endearing.
“Hmmm, that’s good,” I said, giving him the approval he so desperately wanted.
The food was actually delicious, and I hadn’t realized how hungry I’d been. We spent the rest of the meal enjoying the fruits of his labor while he poured us one glass of wine after another.
When we’d both had our fill, I stood up and started to clear off the table, with Maziar trailing behind me. Once all the dishes were in the sink, I turned on the water and started on the task of washing them. I could hear him cleaning off the table and grabbing the empty wine bottles behind me. Then, he suddenly went silent. Before I could turn around to see what had happened, I felt a familiar heat penetrate my back as Maziar came up behind me. My soapy dish froze midair as his breath rustled my hair, sending chills up my spine. He took one step closer, his chest leaning up against me, the beating of his heart thumping up against the back of my rib cage. I sucked in my breath as he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in, eliminating the faintest space between us.
I could feel his desire hardened up against my lower back and my heart began to beat furiously against my chest. He slowly reached out and eased my arm down, placing the dish I was holding back into the sink. With the water still running, he gently placed his hand under my shirt. I gasped as it slowly inched up my stomach and over the delicate lace of my bra. He moved his fingers into the space between the fabric and my skin, running circles against my nipple. The desire shot through my body like fire, threatening to undo me right there against the kitchen sink. With my breast still in his hand, he reached up with the other and moved my hair aside, placing his lips on the tender skin of my neck. He teased me with a flutter of kisses, barely making contact. A groan escaped my lips. It had been so long since I’d felt his touch, each fingertip sending my body into convulsions.
He pulled my shirt up over my head and cast it to the side. With the hands of an expert, he unlatched my bra while flooding my neck and back with a trail of lips on skin. I could hardly breathe, the heat between my legs boiling with the need to feel him inside me.
I turned in his arms so I could face him, my bare chest brushing against his shirt. No longer able to resist, I pulled it over his head, placing my own trail of kisses over the tight muscles of his chest and stomach. He shuddered underneath my hand, encouraging me forward.
I moved my way back up to his mouth and began to tease him with my tongue. When he couldn’t take it any longer, he wrapped his hands in my hair and pulled my mouth to his, crushing me with his lips. The need for each other was as visible as the steam rising off the water running in the sink behind us.
Before I knew what had happened, Maziar had relieved us both of our unnecessary clothing, discarding them onto the floor. He pushed up against me, his desire hard and stiff against my thigh. He grabbed me by the waist and lifted me into the air, placing me down on the kitchen counter to his left. He pushed my legs open, creating a space that outlined his body perfectly. All of a sudden, he pulled back, severing the connections between us. I looked up at him, confused, desperate for more.
“I love you, Sara,” he said with such tenderness a knot formed in my throat.
“I love you, too.”
I laid my hand against his cheek, and he kissed the inside of my wrist. Then, he eased himself inside of me and slowly made love to me on the kitchen counter. Our bodies ignited with recognition, fitting together like lost puzzle pieces. Each movement felt new, yet old, as we discovered each other once again.
After it was over, we stayed there intertwined, our bodies leaning into each other with the sweet exhaustion that takes lovers afterward. I don’t know how long we stayed that way, but we held onto each other in desperation, trying to erase all the years we’d lost.
“I love you,” he whispered into my ear again.
“I love you, too.”
“Forever?” he asked. There was a fearful, childlike expression in his eyes, and I knew in that moment that I had the power to break him.
“For always.”
That night, long after I’d left him standing on the curb as he watched me drive away, I lay in bed thinking about how our lives were intertwined. We truly couldn’t survive without each other, two pieces of a whole. The idea of spending another day in this life without Maziar seemed unfathomable. I had found my true love years ago, and fate had given us a second chance. Now I was floating through the fairy tale I’d always dreamed of.
The next morning, I was still reeling from the night before. I fluttered around getting ready for work, a ridiculous Cheshire smile plastered across my face. Mom looked at me as I buzzed into the kitchen, humming. She raised her eyebrow in question, but didn’t say a word, as she sat down to breakfast with me.
When I got to work, Seti was waiting for me with stories of baby registries and itty-bitty items of necessity she’d discovered on her recent trip to Babies-R-Us. She was glowing with her pregnancy, happier than I’d ever seen her. They’d just found out the baby was a girl, so she’d gone crazy adding dresses and tutus to her wish list. She pulled up a chair while I got started on the day’s tasks, describing the baby nursery to me in detail.
A few minutes later, one of the techs came over to grab me for a consult. As I walked toward the front of the pharmacy, Seti followed, getting ready to head home. We both stopped abruptly as we approached the window, frozen as if we’d seen a ghost. Seti turned and looked at me just as my brain registered who it was.
Bita.
I stood dumbfounded, unable to wrap my head around Bita’s presence in my store. It made no sense, the confusion hindering my ability to form a coherent sentence. I almost expected her to dissipate into a puff of smoke, proving to be only my imagination.
“I’m really sorry to show up like this, but could I talk to you, Sara?” Bita asked, diverting her eyes toward Seti, who was now standing in front of me protectively. “I just want to talk, I swear. I’m not here to cause any trouble,” she said, more to Seti than me. “Please.”
I continued to just stand there, unable to decide on how to proceed. Seti wasn’t convinced by Bita’s kind-girl act and took a step forward, breaking me out of my frozen trance. I reached out stopping her, afraid she’d hurl her pregnant body at Maziar’s sister.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll be fine,” I assured her.
“You know you don’t have to talk to her. You don’t owe her anything,” Seti responded bitterly.
I was facing Bita as Seti spoke, and I noticed an unfamiliar humbleness in her. The fire I’d seen burning in her eyes so many times before was gone, instead replaced by a deep pain that clutched onto the remaining embers of her flame. The confident girl I was used to was nowhere to be found.
She reminded me of a beautiful bird with a fractured wing that had finally realized soaring above the clouds wasn’t all that life entailed, and even those who soared too close to the sun could burn. Her family wasn’t as invincible as she’d originally believed, shattered apart and thrown to the wind when Maziar drew his line in the sand. I knew I should hate her, that there was an evilness in her that was only masked by her instability without her brother. But the heart in me that wanted to believe people were inherently good still felt compelled to hear her out.
“Come back at lunch,” I said, watching relief flood Bita’s features.
“Are you crazy? Did you forget what they did to you?” Seti said in protest.
“No, I haven’t forgotten. But if it were my brother, I’d hope Maziar would do the same,” I replied, keeping my eyes trained on Bita.
“Thank you.” She turned and left before Seti had a chance to change my mind.
“Okay, but walk away if it gets ugly. Promise me,” Seti demanded.
“I will. Now go home and put those swollen feet up. I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.”
“I know. Will you call me after work and tell me what happened?” she asked.
“Yes. Now go,” I said, lovingly pushing her toward the pharmacy door.
Once she was out of sight, I leaned against the counter, trying to steady my nerves. One of my technicians came over to ask me if I was okay.
“I’m fine,” I said, then excused myself to the bathroom.
I stood staring at my reflection in the mirror, splashing water on my pale face. I was tired, so very tired of dealing with the constant roller coaster ride I felt like I was always on. The past few months without Maziar’s family had been amazing, giving us a fair chance for once to explore what we could be. I was terrified that they would rear their heads, causing it all to come crashing down around me again.
I spent the rest of the morning questioning Bita’s motives, trying to figure out why she would possibly want to talk to me. I kept staring at the clock, cursing at its snail’s pace as the minutes stretched on. The anticipation was killing me.
It seemed like an eternity before my lunch break finally arrived. I grabbed my bag and headed out the door, trying to keep from breaking into a sprint. True to her word, Bita stood outside, waiting. When I saw her, I had the strange feeling that in an alternate world we would have been friends and this could have been a regular Saturday lunch date. But, sadly, that alternate world didn’t exist.
She turned toward the double doors as they slid open, alerting her to my arrival. She smiled at me, as if we hadn’t spent the past few years as mortal enemies. I felt a sudden surge of hatred course through my veins at her audacity, brushing our history aside as she did. But I swallowed it down, pushing it to the furthest corners of my mind where I’d started a collection of all the things I would deal with later.
“Hi,” she said, more timidly than I’d expected.
“Hi.”
“I was thinking we could walk down the street to the sushi restaurant on the corner? I remember Maziar telling me that you loved that place. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, that’s fine. It’s good,” I said, wondering what conversation would have prompted that information to be exchanged. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to act around her. This whole thing felt bizarre.
“I know things haven’t been great between us,” she said, as we walked toward the restaurant.
I just looked at her, raising an eyebrow.
“Okay, so I was a royal bitch to you, I know that. I take responsibility for all of it.”
She glanced down at the sidewalk like a child that had been reprimanded. This all felt so foreign to me, Bita open with her feelings, exuding a new-found vulnerability. I didn’t know what to do with her.
Once inside the restaurant, she remained quiet until we were seated. She asked the hostess to put us in the back corner of the room to create some semblance of privacy. When we finally sat down, she took a deep breath. Her anxiety surrounded her like a heavy cloak.
“I know you’re wondering why I asked you here today.” She paused, gathering her thoughts before she spoke again. “I haven’t talked to Maziar for over two months now, and I really miss my brother. I know that shouldn’t matter to you, but I don’t know what to do. I was hoping you might help me. I’ve tried calling and texting, but he never responds. I’ve showed up at his work a few times, but he refuses to see me, having his secretary tell me to leave.”
She looked down at the table, twisting the chopsticks between her fingers. I could see the pain etched across her face, could feel the sense of loss consuming her. She didn’t look like the powerful serpent I had experience so many times before, but instead like a lost, scared little girl. Despite my better judgment, I actually started to feel sorry for her, forgetting for a second all the horrible things she’d done to me. But memories like those are never too far behind.
“Why should I help you? You and your mom decided I wasn’t good enough and did everything you could to break Maziar and me up. You didn’t even care what that did to us. Now you want me to feel sorry for you because your brother won’t talk to you, but you never felt bad for me.”
My voice had risen with emotion, winning the attention of a few patrons sitting nearby.
Instead of lashing back at me, Bita sat there staring at her hands, filled with what appeared to be remorse.
“You’re right,” she said, finally. “You have every right to hate my family. If I were you, I know I would. I don’t know what to say other than that I’m sorry. I truly am, Sara, for how everything happened and how that hurt you. We were wrong. I didn’t come here today thinking I could make you change your mind about me in an hour. But I’m really not as horrible as I acted. If there was a way to take it all back and start over, I would.”
I sat across from Maziar’s sister, realizing she was just a girl, broken and deflated by the loss of someone she loved. It didn’t matter in what capacity the love was felt, the loss of it could destroy you either way. Their relationship was fractured, and she was asking me to help fix it somehow because she’d run out of options.
I could feel the exhaustion down to my bones. I was tired of this struggle, tired of hating, and weary from always being afraid. I wanted the animosity to end. I had felt hope once, that maybe we could all find a way to be in Maziar’s life together. If that was possible, wasn’t I obligated out of love to help piece it all back together for him?
I was fearful, though, that if I decided to help his sister, I would live to regret it. I was afraid that I’d go out on a limb, orchestrating a reconciliation, and once he was back in their grasp they would snatch him away from me again.
Bita sat there staring at me, the inkling of hope mingled with the fear and worry that had taken over her features. She’d come here unsure of my reaction, yet she desperately needed my help and was willing to take the risk of being the fool.
“I don’t know if I can help you,” I said finally. She exhaled, having been holding her breath with hopes of my compliance. “He’s really mad at you all. I don’t know if my talking to him would even make a difference. I’m not sure what it is exactly that you think I can do.”
The spark of hope reignited in her eyes as my words settled on her. I hadn’t refused to help her as she was sure I would. I was merely telling her I wasn’t sure how I could help her, which meant I might actually be willing to try.
“I was just hoping you could talk to him for me. To tell him how sorry I am about everything. If he would just talk to me, I know we could fix this.” She looked at me with eager puppy eyes, waiting for my consent to her plan.
“I’ll talk to him. I would’ve told him that you came to see me anyway. We don’t keep things from each other.” She sat perched on the edge of her seat waiting for me to continue. “But how do I know you won’t go back to the way things used to be the minute you and your brother are fine again? I’m sorry, but I don’t trust any of you,” I said cautiously.
“I guess you can’t know that,” she said quietly. “I can tell you that I’ll never go there again, that I just want my brother to be happy. I’ve realized that means being with you. I could tell you that I truly never thought you were a bad person or that you weren’t good enough for him, that everything that happened was stupid and unnecessary. My family, myself included, unfairly judged you. I could promise you that if you help me fix things with my brother, I’ll have your back forever. I could say I’m sorry a million times.” She paused, and then, with a consideration I’d never seen in her, she said, “I could tell you all kinds of things that are true, Sara, but in the end you’d have to make the decision to trust me.”
I didn’t know it then, as I sat across from Maziar’s sister, struggling with my decision to love or hate, to help or hurt, that this moment would define the person I would become. I didn’t know that, when I decided to help her, not only did I start to learn the power of forgiveness, but that Bita would learn her own lessons too. She would teach me that people could find the strength within them to change if they wanted to.
“I’ll talk to him.”
The rest of my shift dragged on like I was running up a hill in heavy boots, thick with layers of mud. I must have glanced at the clock a million times, trying to will it to move faster. I couldn’t take the waiting. I wanted to get the conversation with Maziar over with and deal with the inevitable explosion that was sure to follow. I was hoping that after the initial anger had settled, he’d realize I was actually trying to help him rather than break his heart.
I bounced around the pharmacy like I’d bathed in a pool of caffeine, counting down the minutes till my relief showed up. When she walked through the door, I almost flew to my car.
I called Mom from the car and updated her on what had happened. She was as shocked as I’d been that Bita would have thought to turn to me for help. She agreed, though, that if I could help mend their relationship, then I should at least try.
When I got to his apartment, I stayed in the car, too terrified to move. I frantically grasped at my thoughts, trying to come up with the best way to tell him about his sister. I eventually forced myself to get out, trying to convince myself everything would be fine. When I opened the front door and realized he wasn’t home, I breathed in a sigh of relief.
I sent him a text to see when he’d be arriving, so I could be ready. He’d gotten caught up on a project and would be at work for another hour. I decided to start on dinner to keep myself busy. Food and a bottle of wine could help take the edge off of our heavy conversation.
When Maziar finally walked through the door, I was busy chopping vegetables for a salad and stirring the pasta sauce on the stove, singing to myself. I was startled when I turned to find him leaning against the counter, watching me. I hadn’t heard him come in.
He came up behind me and put his arms around my waist, losing himself in the crook of my neck as he kissed the tender skin below my ear. I felt the electricity course through my body at his contact.
“Go change. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes,” I said.
A few minutes later I heard the shower go on and was tempted to sneak in with him. I thought a quickie might help ease the tension of the coming conversation. I decided, though, that it would be best to talk first, pulling the sex card out afterward to help rectify the damage.
I giggled at myself, thinking how women frequently viewed sex as a tool to relieve conflict in so many situations with their significant others. The usefulness of it was lost on men, as they viewed it just as pleasure. Simple little birds, I thought, as I smirked silently to myself in the kitchen.
Maziar walked in just as I finished setting the table. He took the bottle of wine off the counter and poured us each a glass. He brought them over as he sat down, waiting for me to join him.
My nerves were on overdrive and I was afraid my movements looked jerky and spastic. I could feel tingling at the base of my neck from the knots that had formed in my shoulders. I tried to discreetly roll them out when he wasn’t looking. I put on my best smile as I approached the table, trying to appear normal, but Maziar was looking at me. His head was tilted to the side and his eyes were squinted in thought. I knew I’d been caught.
“Are you okay?” he asked skeptically.
I wanted to curse at my lack of acting skills. Only a few minutes in, and I’d already been discovered. He knew something was wrong. I thought about trying to deny it but decided otherwise. Now was as good a time as any to get this over with.
“Bita came to see me at work today,” I blurted out.
He shifted in his seat at the mention of her name.
“What did she want?” he asked, before I had a chance to continue.
I could see the rigid look in his eyes, challenging me to betray him. I hadn’t even started and he was already pissed. My right hand rested on the stem of my wine glass, shaking slightly from the tension. I took a long sip, trying to calm my own nerves. I started to realize that I might not make it through this conversation in one piece if the anger in Maziar’s eyes was any indication.
“She came to see me about you,” I said, struggling to keep my tone even.
“Obviously. I didn’t think she came to take you out to lunch so you could be the sister she’s always wished for,” he said, each word drenched in his attitude.
I looked at him, shocked at his tone and irritated that he was already directing his anger at me even though I’d only said ten words.
“What is up with the attitude?” I asked. “Why are you so mad right now? I haven’t done anything. She came to me. I didn’t go looking for her.”
I could see his anger dissipate as he looked at me across the table, replaced by a deeper sadness that lay hidden behind his rage. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m not mad at you. I’m angry at them. The mention of their names puts me on edge. Don’t be upset.”
“I’m not. I just don’t want you mad at me!” I said, frustrated.
He reached across the table and took my free hand, the other one still clenching the wine glass.
“I’m sorry. Go ahead. Tell me what she said.”
I gathered my courage and told him about the afternoon, leaving no details unturned. I quoted his sister as best I could, as I described her distress in words that painted a picture, hoping it would appeal to his softer side. I could see the image taking shape in his mind as he leaned back in his chair, listening.
“She misses you. She wanted me to make sure you know how sorry she is.”
As I watched him struggle with my words, I witnessed the walls he’d built around himself slowly fall apart, leaving only his wounded heart exposed. My own heart clenched with his pain, knowing they’d broken him in ways they weren’t even aware of. They were so consumed with their own feelings that they’d failed to realize they’d pulled the foundation out from beneath him. All for falling in love with me.
“Why did she come to see you?” he finally asked, as if he’d just realized it didn’t make any sense.
“She was hoping I could convince you to talk to her,” I said.
He spun the wine glass between his fingers, staring at the swirling red liquid. I sat quietly, waiting. When he looked up at me, his eyes were filled with tears, and the rawness of his emotions felt like daggers shooting through my chest. I wanted to grab him, hold him, tell him I loved him enough to fill the voids they’d left behind.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said innocently.
I could understand his weariness; he was unsure which direction he should go. It made sense that he would want to mend his relationship with his family, but that he’d be apprehensive because of the effect they could have on us. Unable to stand another minute without touching him, I stood up and took the seat to his right. I reached out and grabbed his hand, bringing it up to my mouth, gently kissing his palm.
“I know, baby.”
He held onto my fingers firmly, always worried I would flutter away if he didn’t grab on tight. I reached out with my other hand and placed it on his cheek. He leaned into it, a tear escaping his eye and falling onto my fingertips. He lost his resolve then, and for the first time in years, I saw Maziar come undone. Unable to hang on to his emotions any longer, he hung his head and let the tears fall onto the floor as he quietly sobbed, the pain escaping from his broken heart.
I found strength where he couldn’t, pulled him close to me, folding him into my arms. I shushed him and swayed, as if he were a child I was calming. He didn’t stay vulnerable and fragile for very long, but it gave him relief, lifted a weight off his chest that I hadn’t realized was causing him to buckle. When he looked up at me, wiping his eyes, he was smiling.
“I love you,” he said, leaning in to kiss me. He wasn’t insecure or wounded that I’d just seen him cry. Instead, he seemed relieved and light.
“I love you too.”
“So what do you think I should do?” he asked, as he leaned back in his chair.
“I’ve never seen Bita the way she was today. She seemed really sad that she hadn’t talked to you. She actually seemed kind of lost without you. I’m not sure exactly what to make of her, but my gut tells me she was sincere. If it were me, and it were Nima, I’d talk to him,” I said truthfully.
“Yeah, but your brother is different. He would never do the things Bita did,” he countered.
“Maybe, but she’s still your sister. And even if you’re mad, you still love her. It obviously isn’t easy to stop talking to your family. I know you act like you don’t care, but who do you think you’re fooling?”
“You mean I’m not as good an actor as I thought I was?” he asked, smiling.
“No, you’re not.” I laughed. “Besides, what are you afraid of? It’s just a conversation with your sister.”
“Is it, though? Nothing is that simple with them.”
“True, but what’s the worst that can happen?” I asked.
“They could cause problems for us again,” he replied glumly.
“Okay, but they can’t hurt us anymore, right?” I tried to exude more confidence into my words than I actually felt.
I was afraid of the same thing. I was terrified I would lose everything we’d built in the past few months and find myself broken and crippled from the loss of it. But Maziar didn’t need to feel my apprehension or worry about my feelings. He needed me to be a pillar in his storm and tell him that everything would turn out fine. I loved him enough to see past myself, to keep from steering him in my own selfish directions. I would be his strength, encouraging him to put his pieces back together, regardless of its cost to me.
“Just talk to her. See what she has to say, then decide what you want to do with it all,” I encouraged.
After a few moments of thoughtful consideration, he said, “Okay, but I want you to be there. I need them to know that they can’t separate us. I want them to know my decision has been made and I’m not willing to compromise.”
“Okay,” I said, smiling at his resolve.
Our love exuded strength where we couldn’t, becoming a faith that we both deeply believed in. I wondered then how I’d gotten so lucky; how I was living in the dream all little girls dreamed of when they were small? How was I so blessed to have my Prince Charming sitting next to me, so deeply in love with me? I wouldn’t let his family break us apart. If they wanted a war, I was ready, and this time I would win.
That night we made love as if it were a declaration to the world that our souls would forever be entwined. If one of us fell, we both did, refusing to endure even a moment apart in this life or the next.