Our Last Dance
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- Parts 5
Ongoing57m
Last published Mon, May 4, 2026
Layla was... particular.
Not in a way people could easily define, but in the way she carried herself, in the way she moved through life like everything had already been thought through, decided, placed exactly where it needed to be.
She wasn't overly optimistic, not the kind that believed everything would magically work out. Hers was quieter than that. Sharper. The kind that came from knowing she had already planned for every possible outcome.
Nothing in her life was accidental.
Everything had a place.
Everything made sense.
She had a routine she never broke, a life that never surprised her, and a world that stayed exactly the way she expected it to.
Until it didn't.
Until someone walked into the classroom like rules didn't apply to him.
Or maybe he didn't walk. Maybe he just... existed loudly enough to be impossible to ignore.
Either way, everything shifted.
Because after him, things stopped making sense.
Her nights were no longer quiet. They were filled with dreams that didn't feel like dreams. They felt vivid. Lingering. Like something just out of reach.
Like something she should remember.
Like something that belonged to her.
And that was the problem.
Because Layla didn't forget things.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
And when the truth began to surface, it didn't come with clarity. It came in fragments. In moments that felt misplaced. In pieces of a past that didn't align with the life she knew she had lived.
That was when she understood.
There had been a before him.
There was a during him.
And somehow...
There would be an after him.
She just never thought she would have to live it.
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#753
melodrama
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A marriage neither wanted. A hatred neither understands. Two strangers tied by a past that stains everything between them. He never wanted a wife. Especially not her. Cold, distant, and poisoned by assumptions, Amaan enters the forced marriage with one intention- to keep his distance and keep his resentment alive. Asmaira enters with something far heavier- guilt. Not to protect him. Not to save him. But because she knows the truth of what happened... and she cannot bear to confess it. They have never met. But the moment they do, the air turns sharp- full of tension, unspoken accusations, and the kind of hate that feels too much like longing. He despises her for a sin she never committed. She punishes herself for a sin she never confessed. And marriage turns into a battleground where silence is a weapon... and closeness is a threat. In this house, love is impossible. Trust is deadly. But hatred? Hatred is the only thing keeping them alive.
My palm cracked against his cheek before I even realised I'd raised it. He froze, then smiled-slow, cruel, like he saw something ugly inside me I tried so hard to hide. And then his hand shot up, fingers sliding into my hair.... enough to make me meet his eyes. Enough to remind me how easily he could close the distance between anger and something darker. "You think this makes you brave?" "No," I said. "It makes me done being scared." "Do that again," his breath touch my cheek, "and I'll make sure you never forget how I'll ruin you." I laughed breathlessly. "You already did. You've been ruining me since the day I stepped into this place." He smirked. "If that's what you call ruined, Sunshine, you haven't seen anything yet." "Obsessed. Psychotic. You can't stand not being in control, can you?" He leaned in, voice cutting. "Control? No. I just hate losing. And I hate you more than anyone I've ever met." "Leave me alone... demon," I managed, "stay out of my life." hating the tremor in my tone. He stared at me. "Demons never let go of their prey." his thumb brushes on my lower lip. "Until you do what I say." He stepped back and took off his jacket and held the jacket out between us. "You want me to leave you alone?" He said slowly like a challenge disguised as mercy. I crossed my arms. "What are you doing?" "Making it official." "Official?" He stepped closer, so close I could feel the faint heat still clinging to the leather. "You'll wear this," his grey eyes locked on mine. "You'll wear my jacket. Every time you feel it, every time someone looks at you, you'll remember who made you take it. You'll remember me and I'll stay away." For a heartbeat, I stared at him, hated him for how much I understood his madness. How he twists me, questioning my own sanity, using every crack in me as a weapon. Would Elara choose peace over him? Tale of vengeance, obsession and defiance. Dark academia aesthetic. Morally heroes, slow-burning romance. Enemies-to-lovers.
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