Maddest obsession || book 1

•Epilogue•

Two years later

Amara giggled running behind Nate, holding his hand tightly. Rain was pouring over their heads as they ran to take shelter. Water splashed beneath their feet.

"Ahh, Nate slow down. I'll fall" he turned to look at her without slowing down.

"I will never allow you to fall" and he continued to run. Cobblestone streets of Paris à, pulling her close with a worried glint in his eyes. "Amara, are you okay?"

Amara, breathless and soaked to the bone, could only nod, clinging to him for support. The playful chase was forgotten, replaced by the sudden chill of the downpour and the vulnerability of being exposed to its fury.

The warmth of Nate's body against hers was a welcome contrast to the cold rain. He quickly scanned their surroundings, his gaze landing on a little bookstore across the street.

"There!" he exclaimed, pointing towards the brightly lit shop window. "Let's run for it."

Nate moved down and picked her up in his arms before making way to the shop. With a joyful yelp, Amara wrapped her arms around Nate's neck, her soaked dress clinging to his chest.

He reached the bookstore, pushing open the heavy door with his shoulder. Warmth and the comforting scent of old paper hit them like a friendly embrace. Inside, the room was bathed in the soft glow of vintage lamps, bookshelves stacked to the ceiling like silent guardians.

Amara nestled deeper into Nate's arms, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. His strong grip held her secure, a silent promise against the storm outside. He placed her gently on her feet, his hands lingering on her arms for a beat too long.

"Stay here," he said, his voice husky with concern. "I'll get us towels."

With a nod, Amara watched him disappear into the maze of bookshelves. Her eyes, still adjusting to the dim light, landed on a cozy armchair by the fireplace. The promise of crackling flames and dry wool tugged at her.

Hesitantly, she made her way over, sinking into the plush cushion with a satisfied sigh. The wet fabric of her dress clung uncomfortably, but the chill was already starting to recede. As she leaned back, her hand grazed something soft and leather-bound tucked into the crevice of the chair.

Curiosity ignited, Amara pulled out the book. It was a collection of poems, the pages aged and delicate, smelling faintly of woodsmoke and forgotten memories. She opened it to a random page, and a verse jumped out at her:

"Beneath the storm's wild symphony, Two souls entwine, a haven found. Warmth in the touch, laughter in the rain, Love's gentle flame against the wind."

Amara shivered, not from the lingering damp, but from the way the words echoed the scene unfolding around her. She could almost hear Nate's laughter in the crackling fire, feel his warmth pressing against hers.

Then, he was back, two bundles of fluffy towels in his arms. He helped her wrap one around her, his fingers brushing past her skin as he tucked it securely. Their eyes met, and the unspoken emotion crackled between them like sparks in the air.

Pulling another chair close to hers, Nate settled down, the old book landing in his lap with a soft thud. The storm raged outside, but inside the cozy bookstore, a different kind of fire burned, fueled by unspoken words and the comforting rhythm of rain.

"Shall we read?" Nate asked, his voice a low rumble.

Amara smiled, leaning closer to him. "Yes," she whispered, her heart echoing the word, "Yes."

As they turned the pages together, the poems became their soundtrack, filling the silence with whispers of love and longing.

Outside, the rain continued, but in the flickering lamplight and the embrace of the old bookstore, Amara and Nate found their own melody, a love story written in raindrops and shared moments.