[Book #2 in the Nystrom series.]
[Check tws before reading]
[Dual pov]
I push the feeling away and ultimately concentrate my gaze on his upper body, which still bears the traces of my lipstick. "You did not remove them?" He smirks and closes the boo...
My break finally started so I'm hoping to write/upload more on here, if possible! Now, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter <3
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AMAYA'S POV
Rowan and I are sitting outside enjoying the lovely weather one moment, and the next we are heading to the secret base that Ayumu told us about earlier today.
When we enter the building, I can feel my hand gripping Rowan's tighter, but I cannot help feeling like this is all a dream—that I am waiting to wake up and discover that everything is a creation of my own mind.
"I am not sure about this," While we continue to move further into the building, I mumble, and Rowan kisses my temple. "I know and it's alright, love. I'm here with you, it's going to be okay."
As I nod in agreement with what he says, my hands begin to shake as we enter the room that Ayumu told us to enter. My heart is pounding through my head as I reach out to the door handle and open it.
"Amaya?" The man I once believed I would never need in my life is standing there with a woman, and Ayumu is seated in the corner of the room's corner as though the three of them were having a conversation before Rowan and I arrived.
When Rowan grabs my hand and softly kisses the skin there before nudging me forward, it is as if he can read the thoughts going through my head. I turn my head back to face him.
"I'm right behind you." He reminds me, and I force my anxieties to the back of my mind as I turn to face the people in front of me.
"That is me," My father sighs deeply as he runs his hand over his face in response to my muttering. He draws closer, and the woman nudges him as if to caution him not to overwhelm me, and I reconsider the whole situation.
"Do you remember me?" My jaw tightens as he asks the question I dreaded being asked the most.
The recollections of the moment he showed me the different sides of fire and warned me that anything that did not appear deadly was indeed deadly run through my memory like little parts of a jigsaw.
"Dad," When I say it out loud, the term sounds strange. He nods and smiles while attempting to look strong, but his trembling tells me differently. "May I hug you? If you want to, of course."
The thought makes me shudder as soon as my eyes land on the ground, but I choose to ignore it and nod my head slightly.
He beams with joy as he takes me in his arms, and all of a sudden I am seven again—the girl who received a bag of books from her dad and the one who had faith that she could repair her entire family even if they did not.
My arms remain by my side while he gives me a hug, and as he pulls away, I feel as though I have just survived my most arduous mental struggle. As my dad's gaze landed on the blonde man behind me, I regained my composure and wiped away the tear that had fallen down my cheek.
