Azariah - God Has Helped

Chapter 16

Kiara looked up into his eyes, and instantly her own began to fill with tears.
What was she doing here?
With him.
In his arms.
Wrapped in a warmth that wasn't hers to claim.

Everything inside her said this moment was wrong.
But her heart whispered something dangerous—
Don't move. Don't let go.

For the first time in a very long time, she felt safe.
Wanted.
Seen.
Cherished... even if it wasn't hers to keep.

His smile had slowly melted every wall she'd been stacking around herself.
Day after day, conversation after conversation, she found herself drifting closer to him—emotionally, mentally, dangerously. He had become her confidant, her secret comfort, the person she spoke to about things she never dared to say out loud.

And he shared too.
His voice always softened when he confessed the things he never told anyone—how unhappy he was, how trapped he felt, how scared he was to lose his children.
The pain in his eyes every time he talked about his situation twisted her heart.
She respected him deeply for choosing to stay for his children's sake.
It said everything about the kind of man he was—loyal, responsible, loving.

But that made this moment even more wrong.

She pressed her cheek lightly against his chest, ignoring the way his muscular frame made her feel so small, so protected.
She shouldn't be here.
She knew it.
He knew it.

Yet neither of them moved.

His breath brushed her neck—warm, slow, almost trembling—and she felt her skin soften, her body dissolving into his. She knew she shouldn't react. She knew she shouldn't even feel this.
But she couldn't help the way her soul exhaled, as if it had been holding its breath for years.

She kept her phone locked away in her dorm room on purpose.
She couldn't handle another explosion from Davar right now—not when this moment felt so fragile, so dangerous.
Not when she already knew she was walking too close to a line she had no business approaching.

This wasn't cheating.
This was... confusion.
Loneliness.
A need she had suppressed for too long.
And she reminded herself—again and again—
I am loyal. I am committed. I am a mother. I am not someone who betrays.

But the truth was sitting right in front of her:
Being loyal wasn't enough for Davar.
No matter what she did, he still made her feel small, unworthy, untrustworthy.
He chipped away at her confidence until she barely recognized herself.

And now this man—this stranger she had tried so hard to ignore—was giving her everything she craved.

Not with gifts.
Not with kisses.
Not with promises.

But with presence.
With attention.
With sincerity.
With the simple act of listening to her pain without judgment.

She felt the sting of tears pressing harder behind her eyelids.
She lifted a hand to wipe them—but he caught her wrist.
Gently. Firmly.
Guiding her hand down.

She froze.

His eyes scanned her face, worried, intense, searching as if he wanted to pull the sadness straight out of her soul.
It was too much.
Too intimate.
Too risky.

She shouldn't be here.

It was late—too late—and she knew she had to go. But his grip didn't loosen, not even a little.
He was trembling. She felt it.
He was fighting something.
She felt that too.

He stared at her lips.

And she panicked.

What was he thinking?
Why was he smiling to himself one second, and then looking tortured the next?
Why was he holding her here as if he couldn't let her go?
Was he losing his mind?
Or was she losing hers?