"You have to hate me, Akash, for what I've done to you." The words were a ragged, barely audible whisper, a tear finally escaping my eye and tracing a hot path down my cheek. Overwhelmed by the sheer weight of my shame, I wrenched my face away, unable to bear the sight of him.
A feather-light touch found my chin. It was him. He didn't force me, but with agonizing tenderness, he guided my face back to his, his thumb lingering, an anchor against the tremor in my jaw. He moved closer, the final distance dissolving until our lips were scarcely an inch apart. Our breaths, quick and shallow with emotion, mingled and danced in the charged air; our noses were nearly touching.
His voice, a low, intense rumble that vibrated through me, seemed to absorb all the chaos of the room. He wasn't merely tracing my jaw—he was trying to gently erase the mark of my guilt with his warmth.
"You can never hate someone you love, Paro," he whispered, his eyes, dark and infinitely deep, holding mine captive. "And I need you to understand that nothing you have done—nothing—is stronger than the way I love you."