It's a fact that you can't help who you fall in love with. And for Rosaline Davenport and him, it definitely shouldn't have been each other.
Because, sometimes, love stories have blood on them.
[warning: this is the mother of all slow-burns]
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• have you guys started putting something in the water you drink? because istg, the last three chapters have been flooded with so much feedback??? Like, even without me starting to respond to the comments, each chapter has passed beyond 500 comments? Whatever crack y'all are on, keep doing it lmao 😂❤ no complaints from Ali •
here's the longest chapter I've ever written as a token of my gratitude:
【 42.
Forty-two
Zabardasti 】
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[ Zabardasti • force/violation ]
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THREE A.M BRINGS with it an even chillier air blowing through the open windows and Rosaline pulls the quilt further up her legs until it covers half her stomach too. She glances at the pale curtains fluttering due to the cool breeze and catches a glimpse of the light snowfall illuminated by the hotel’s exterior lights
“Hey, Zach?” she calls out softly, watching a bunch of clouds inch closer towards the moon.
“Hmm?”
“You might probably already know this,” she turns her head away from the window and faces him instead, “but I want to get the words out anyway. I only kept the ring on because of…”
“…Keeping up a certain image?” he asks quietly, dropping his hand from above the sofa and casually resting it over her raised kneecaps instead. The way he doesn’t bother to hold back the weight of his arm and lets it lean against her legs heavily pulls at something in Rosaline. It makes the barrier of clothing and a thick quilt evaporate into thin air. She swears the heat of his skin is scorching down her legs through her flesh, her bones, her veins.
“Yeah,” she mutters, ignoring the sudden jump in her pulse. “I have a feeling that the affair might never be exposed to the public, not with the position Micah held.”
“I don’t care about that,” Zach says, his voice carrying an edge that makes Rosaline sigh internally. “Are you hesitant about it coming out?”
Rosaline frowns, “No? I mean, I don’t really think so. A part of me wants to snap back at anyone who tells me what a wonderful, respectable man he was and how lucky I was to be married to him, or how perfect a couple we were.” She shudders and crosses her arms against her chest. “But I don’t want to be that woman, you know. The one who creates a ruckus or an unnecessary scene and airs her dirty laundry in front of guests. That style of melodrama isn’t made for me. I just think there’s a way to handle situations—with grace and dignity. It’s the upbringing I’ve always had.”
