JannetRia

 Exciting Announcement! 
          
          Hey everyone! 
          I’m thrilled to share that the most anticipated story of Marcello and Sophia will be releasing soon on Wattpad! 
          
          Today at 7 PM, I’ll be dropping the character aesthetics so you can finally get a glimpse of their world and vibe. After that, I’ll be uploading 2 chapters every week! ✨
          
          Thank you all for your constant love and support it truly means the world to me. I hope you’ll shower this story with the same warmth and excitement you gave to my previous one. 
          
          Stay tuned… Marcello and Sophia are coming soon ❤️
           #ComingSoon #WattpadStory #MarcelloAndSophia #NewStory #CharacterAesthetics #LoveAndDrama
          
          

Hi can you please write story about sofia too

~6 
          He smiled, thumb gently tracing the edge of her jaw. “You’re allowed.”
          
          “I don’t forgive you yet.”
          
          “I wouldn’t, either.”
          
          Her eyes softened just a little. “But I missed you.”
          
          He closed his eyes briefly, like the words hurt more than anything else. “I missed you every day. I just didn’t know how to say it without breaking.”
          
          She didn’t reply. Instead, she tucked her face into his neck, breathing him in, grounding herself. He wrapped his arms around her again, slower this time, as if realizing she wasn’t slipping through his fingers anymore.
          
          A silence settled between them again—but it was different now. Not heavy. Not bitter.
          
          Hopeful.
          
          “I want us to be okay,” she said against his collarbone.
          
          “We will be,” he murmured. “But not by pretending it didn’t hurt. We have to talk. I have to be better. I want to be.”
          
          She nodded slowly. “Then start by staying.”
          
          “I’m not going anywhere.”
          
          He kissed the top of her head—soft, lingering.
          
          For the first time in what felt like forever, the storm had passed.
          
          And in its quiet, they were still standing.
          
          Together.

~5
          
          They stayed like that for a long moment—wrapped in each other, breathing in the quiet after the storm. The weight of everything unspoken had finally broken free, leaving them raw, trembling… but somehow lighter.
          
          
          Their embrace loosened, not out of distance, but because their hearts had already moved closer.
          
          She pulled back first, just a little, and their eyes met.
          
          Tears shimmered on both their faces, catching the soft lamp light like fragile pieces of truth finally seen. Her breath hitched as his hand lifted, fingertips brushing against her cheek. Gently, reverently, he kissed the tears from beneath her eyes—first one, then the other—like a silent apology for every time he’d looked away.
          
          She didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak. Just watched him with that open ache in her gaze, the one she used to hide, the one he had always run from.
          
          And this time, he didn’t run.
          
          His large hands delicately held her face, dragging her more into him, and her hands moved up to his neck.
          
          His eyes lingered on hers, searching, asking.
          
          And in the stillness between their heartbeats, she gave her answer—not with words, but with the soft tilt of her head, the quiet trust in her breath.
          
          Their lips met—slow, unsure at first, then deepening with every second, every shared wound, every desperate longing that had lived between them for so long. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t perfect. It was messy, and aching, and real.
          
          A kiss born not just from love, but from survival.
          
          It tasted of regret, and forgiveness, and something new blooming in the ashes of everything they thought they’d lost.
          
          When they finally pulled away, their foreheads rested together, breath mingling in the fragile space between them. And then, without meaning to, they both smiled.
          
          Not wide. Not giddy. But soft, real, and broken in the most beautiful way.
          
          Because maybe, just maybe, this was their beginning after the end.
          
          She let out a shaky breath, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m still mad at you.”

~4 
          
          "If this is how it’s going to be—if I’m just going to keep living beside a man who doesn’t want to be touched, loved, or even looked at—then maybe it’s better we just end it here. You saved me from my parents, and for that, I’ll always be grateful. But I didn’t survive hell to live in purgatory."
          
          Her voice cracked again. "I want a partner. A love. A life. And if you can’t give it, then let me go."
          
          That was it. That was the moment everything inside him cracked.
          
          He reached out—slowly at first—then pulled her toward him, arms wrapping around her so tightly it was as if he could hold her pain inside him.
          
          "Don’t you dare," he whispered into her hair, voice low and desperate. "Don’t you dare talk like you mean nothing to me."
          
          She sobbed. Her fists hit his chest, but weakly—exhausted.
          
          "I hate you," she cried, broken. "You’re the worst husband anyone could ask for. You made me feel small and unwanted and—"
          
          "I know," he whispered. "I know. And I was wrong."
          
          Her hands gripped his shirt, her small frame shaking in his arms.
          
          "I never hated you," he murmured. "I hated myself. For wanting you when I shouldn’t. For feeling things I promised I’d never feel again."
          
          Her tears spilled harder.
          "I was scared. Scared that I’d ruin you the way I ruin everything. That you’d wake up one day and regret loving me."
          
          She didn’t answer—just cried into him like every piece of her was unraveling.
          
          He rocked her gently, rubbing slow circles on her back, his face buried in her hair.
          
          "But I do want you," he said softly. "Every damn day, I want you. I just didn’t think I deserved you."
          
          She choked out a breathless sob, her voice a whisper against his chest.
          
          "You don’t."
          
          He let out a shaky laugh, tears burning his own eyes.
          
          "Fair."
          
          She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. Her cheeks were flushed, lips trembling, eyes red and brimming.
          
          "I hate you the most," she muttered.
          
          He smiled through the wreckage. "And I hate you more."

~3
          The silence thickened. He watched her, helpless, aching.
          
          This wasn’t the girl who used to beg him to look at her. This wasn’t the girl who used to leave little notes by his coffee, or sneak peeks at him during dinner, thinking he wouldn’t notice.
          
          This was someone else.
          
          Someone he had broken.
          ---
          Night had begun to settle outside. The room dimmed, bathed in the amber glow of a lamp in the corner.
          
          He cleared his throat, the tension in his chest almost unbearable.
          
          "What’s going on?" he asked, his voice rough.
          
          She didn’t respond.
          
          He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
          
          "You’ve changed. You’re not talking. Not even looking at me. What happened?"
          
          She turned then, slowly, finally meeting his eyes. Her gaze wasn’t angry—it was empty. That was worse.
          
          "You really don’t know?"
          
          He said nothing.
          
          "You pushed me away so many times, told me I was just a mistake you made out of guilt, treated my feelings like a burden—and now you want to know why I stopped trying?"
          
          He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
          
          "I loved you," she said, voice trembling. "And I still do, God help me, but I can’t keep giving all of me to someone who doesn’t want it. You made it clear you didn’t want me."
          
          She looked down at her lap, her fingers curling over the edge of the blanket.
          
          "So I stopped fighting. I let you win. I stopped being the annoying, clingy girl you married. I stopped dreaming about a future with you."
          
          He felt the words stab, one by one.
          
          "Do you think it was easy for me to love you?" Her voice rose slightly. "You’re cold, broken, distant—and still I did. I believed in us when you didn’t even believe we existed. And now? You can’t even look me in the eye and tell me you care."
          
          "I do—"
          
          "Then say it!" she snapped, breathless. "Say it to my face. Admit you’re just a coward who’s afraid to love again. Who’s afraid of being loved."
          
          He sat frozen, the words landing like punches. She was shaking now—tears slipping quietly down her face.

(2/9)
          When he arrived, she was already sitting up in bed, her wrist bandaged, a faint bruise blooming near her elbow. She looked pale, but calm. Unbothered.
          
          Too unbothered.
          
          He rushed in, chest heaving, eyes wide. "Are you okay?" His voice cracked as he approached the bed.
          
          She didn’t look at him. "It’s nothing serious."
          
          "You should’ve called me—"
          
          "Why?" she interrupted quietly.
          
          He froze.
          
          "Why would I bother you with something so trivial? After all, we’re just sharing space, right? Just surviving."
          
          His heart clenched, but he said nothing. She turned her face away and began unwrapping the IV from her arm herself.
          
          "Let the nurse—"
          
          "I can do it."
          
          Each word was a knife, dull but relentless.
          ---
          It was quiet in her room. The kind of quiet that presses into your chest and makes breathing feel like guilt.
          
          She lay propped against a stack of pillows, her bandaged wrist resting over her stomach, face turned slightly toward the window. The late evening light filtered through the curtains, casting soft golden shadows across her face.
          
          He sat beside her, on the edge of the bed, not too close, not too far. Hands resting on his knees. Unmoving. Watching.
          
          The hospital ride home had been silent. She hadn’t said a word since stepping through the front door. Just walked to her room and lay down without waiting for help, without even glancing at him.
          
          She’d refused dinner.
          
          He didn’t leave her side.
          
          And now he sat there, stiff, guarded, hurting more than he’d ever admit.
          
          Because now… now she wasn’t fighting for him anymore.
          
          She moved slightly, wincing as she adjusted the bandage herself.
          
          "Let me help," he said quietly.
          
          "I can do it."
          
          The flatness of her tone hit harder than any scream could have.
          
          His throat bobbed. He watched as she fumbled with the gauze, her fingers trembling just enough to make his gut twist.
          
          "You shouldn't strain it—"
          
          "It’s just a bandage. I’m not made of glass."

(1/9)
          The silence between them had grown louder than their arguments.
          
          Once, her presence had been filled with sunshine—talking nonstop, clinging to hope, fighting for every flicker of warmth he tried so hard to snuff out. But now, she moved like a shadow in his home, in his life—still there, but silent, distant.
          
          He noticed it immediately.
          
          She no longer waited for him at the door, no longer poured his tea just the way he liked, no longer tried to draw him into conversations he’d cruelly turned away from before. She spoke only when spoken to, her voice calm, even… empty.
          
          And for reasons he wouldn’t admit out loud, it hurt.
          
          She was slipping from him, and though he'd told himself it was for the best, the crack in his chest widened with every cold glance she threw his way.
          
          But he had to stay strong. For her. For what was right. For all the reasons he’d repeated to himself at night while staring at the ceiling of their shared, silent room.
          
          Until the phone call shattered everything.
          
          It was a rainy afternoon. He was in his study, trying to read the same sentence in a document for the third time when Nancy’s voice came through the phone, tight and worried.
          
          "She’s in the hospital. It was a small accident—she slipped while crossing the street. They say it’s nothing serious, but…"
          
          The words barely registered before he was on his feet, keys in hand, running.
          
          The world blurred past him. Rain slapped the windshield. His hands clenched the steering wheel so hard they went numb.
          
          Please be okay. Please.

Heyy author 
          It's me a random reader and I have recently read your story In the night of darkness and trust me it's damn good, evrything's perfect 
          After a long time i have found a good story and am completely obsessed with Ibrahim and Zara 
          
          They are revolving in my mind all day long 
          
          So coming to the point I have reached till chapter 26 and the way the story has proceed till chapter 25, to be honest i was expecting an emotional confession ( just my pov) and the way you express chapter 26 was your pov and it's completely fine but but still I can't move on from chapter 26 and kept thinking of some better confessions idea and i can't stop myself writing chapter 26 ( according to my idea just as a reader) and i have even wrote it and am posting it here just to share you my thoughts (no wrong intentions ) 
          
          And from now on definately going to read other stories of your if you post

Hi there will be story of sophia?