[COMPLETED]
❝Death is inevitable. It's a promise made to us at birth.❞
Arielle is a studious young woman striving to be a chef. Her life is full of going to class, reading textbooks, and hanging out with her friends, until she meets Zayn. Zayn's an...
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➳ ARIELLE'S POV
I look at myself in the mirror, wearing a purple silk nightgown that perfectly matched the pair of panties that Zayn had given me. I'm wearing the pair that he gifted to me as a representation of the fact that he'd regained some memories of us. The ones that were near identical to the pair he ripped of mine back in New York City, on the night when I first uttered that I loved him, and he reciprocated by making love to me.
I can remember that night like yesterday. How my heart was racing in my chest after saying those words. How the snow was falling heavily, covering the city in a blanket of crisp white. How thankful I was that even though he didn't love me, he showed me just how much he truly cared.
I readjust my hair, fixing some of the waves that have formed from the humidity that comes with staying near such a large body of water. Zayn's necklace—the rose shaped diamond one he gave me—hangs around my neck, sparkling brightly in the light of the bathroom.
I can hear Zayn shuffling about outside of the door and it had me feeling giddier. I honestly don't have a clue what he's doing, but I do know one thing—he's preparing to make love to me again as I get myself ready on the other side of the door.
This vacation has been out of this world amazing. It's been insanely romantic. It's been relaxing, fun, adventurous, and so wonderfully warm. But best of all, I can tell that it's helped bring Zayn and myself closer. I feel even more connected to him now than I did before he lost his memory.
He's changed.
He's changed so much from the man I first met at that party. He's thoughtful, he's funny, he's adorable, he's creative, he's intelligent, he's got the biggest heart, he's sexy as hell, he makes me feel safe and special, and it's safe to say that every single day I spend with him, I fall deeper in love. I don't care if he loves me back right now because I love him endlessly—with every pump of my heart—and I know that he's trying his best to love me back.
I absolutely hate that this vacation is coming to an end so quickly. I desperately wish that we could stay here forever, where it seems that the sun always shines, Zayn's constantly smiling, and where nothing bad happens. I don't want to go back to Miami tomorrow. I don't want the drama to start up again. I want to stay here with Zayn, forever.
When I realize that I'm not hearing any noise on the other side of the door, I check my appearance in the mirror one final time. It's not that I'm nervous about sleeping with Zayn, because I'm not. It's the fact that we've planned this—albeit like, twenty minutes ago—when usually our sex life isn't planned. It's always been spontaneous.
I take a deep breath before opening the bathroom door. When it's fully open and the bedroom is revealed to me, I'm in complete and utter awe. Somehow, Zayn's managed to light candles all around the room, providing the only light, other than the moon, which is streaming in through the part of the accordion–style door that he's opened. I'm left breathless as I look around the room which he's turned into a romantic getaway of sorts with himself laying on the bed on his side like he's on some magazine cover—pretending as if he's a hairy chested man on a fur rug in front of a roaring fire.
