"You said you don't hate me. So, can't we start a new chapter?" she said trembling, her eyes filled with hope.
He laughed loudly. "Aliya Emdad are you a stupid or just pretending to be. Listen to me carefully. Yes I don't hate you. Actually I feel...
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My eyes fluttered open to find myself cocooned in my safe haven–my Tahu's arms. His hands wrapped around my bare skin protectively, the steady rhythm of his breath against my skin, and the faint ticklish sensation of his warmth made my heart beating faster. The memories of last night came rushing back, painting my cheeks a deep shade of red.
Tears pricked my eyes as I thought about it. I never imagined I’d be able to embrace intimacy after everything I had been through. But my Tahu, my husband, had rewritten every part of me with his love and tenderness, erasing fears I thought would haunt me forever.
I closed my eyes, silently thanking the Almighty for allowing me to feel this pure, unbreakable bond.
Embarrassment quickly followed as I remembered how I’d practically passed out from the overwhelming intensity of unfamiliar pleasure. How could I have fallen asleep like that? And yet, as I shifted slightly, I noticed something that made my cheeks burn even hotter.
I was clean. Comfortable.
Did he... take care of me?
Haye Allah, it felt so embarrassing. Yet, at the same time, it was such a caring, thoughtful gesture that my heart swelled.
Turning my gaze to the man beside me, I studied him in the dim light of the nightstand lamp. Tahu looked so serene, his long hair falling messily across his forehead, his dark lashes resting like soft shadows against his cheeks.
Why did he have to have such beautiful lashes? It wasn’t fair.
My eyes fell on his bicep, where faint bruises stood out against his skin. My breath hitched as I realized I had left those marks last night.
The thought made me suddenly aware of my own nakedness beneath the sheet. I planted a soft kiss on his cheek, careful not to wake him, and slowly pulled the sheet tighter around myself as I slipped out of bed.
But the moment I took a step, a sharp pain in between my thighs shot through me, making me collapse to the floor with a soft whimper.
Does it always hurt this much after... that?
Before I could scold myself for having such thoughts, his voice broke through the haze of embarrassment.
"Aliya?" It was raspy, thick with sleep, but filled with concern.
Before I could hide, he was already kneeling beside me, his strong arms lifting me effortlessly. Wrapped in the sheet, I was back in his arms and placed gently on the bed.
"Are you this sore?" he asked softly, his honey-brown eyes scanning my face.
"Don’t ask that, you idiot," I muttered, turning my face away as my cheeks burned with humiliation.
