[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 computer was getting fixed so that's why I hadn't updated on friday, but I got it back and managed to write this chapter on time so enjoy 🙏🏼
Don't forget to vote, comment, follow and share!
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
ROWANS POV
"What?" The expression on her face tells me she still knows what I was trying to say, but for a brief moment, while I listen to what she says, I worry that perhaps I pronounced something incorrectly.
I am aware that I do so every now and then. Even after spending a lifetime traveling to Japan, I was never able to communicate in the language, yet I could comprehend the majority of what was said when someone else was speaking. Though it was too complex for a little child to fathom, I can still recall teaching myself some Japanese. So I taught myself how to say marry me in Japanese.
Could you picture it? A young child teaching himself how to ask someone to marry him for when he needed it—any normal child would have given up on learning a language that was this difficult to speak, but not me, never me because I had an anchor keeping me above water when my world kept threatening to drown me under the ferocious waves of reality. The anchor who is now staring at me with those stunningly gorgeous hazel eyes.
"You don't have to right now," I whisper, walking next to her as she looks up at me, her hands resting against the keys of the piano.
"Just promise me that someday if you're ready, you'll say yes. I want to hear you promise that you'll keep loving me even when your mind tries not to, promise me we'll always have each other." I tell her, sounding almost as if I'm pleading and begging—someone else would have been embarrassed to acknowledge it, but not me. I'd eagerly beg her for anything if it meant I'd be the one to worship her at the end of the day.
I stroked my hand over a piece of her hair that fell in front of her face when she didn't answer yet, almost as if the voice I always loved so much was no longer hers.
"Come on, Aya. Promise it to your future husband." I whisper, trailing my finger over her jaw, lifting her head up so that she looks up at me. "Promise me, please." I repeat and reconsider my words and my actions when I notice how she tries to hide the way her lips curl up when she sees the submissiveness in my eyes—she can hear it in my voice but I don't mind, I never do with her.
"I promise," She speaks ever so carefully as if her words are being recorded and she doesn't want to say anything wrong.
She looks up at me through her lashes and I think I might die, I think my legs will give out, I think I'll have a heart attack I think I think I think and come to the conclusion that I am entirely hers.
In a world where anything leads to everything I'd abandon every road out there except the one that leads to her—if anyone told me to change myself and look at my life my eyes would be on hers in a matter of seconds because she is my life and I'm scared of what I feel for her. The way I feel about her has the ability to make even the darkest places shine with lights, but it also has the potential to cause everyone to suffer as a result of my actions, like meteorites falling from the sky.
