Zoya’s P.O.V
Waking up to the warmth of Ezra's embrace, I felt a sense of comfort enveloping me.
The morning light streams through the curtains, casting a soft glow upon the room. A sense of tranquility washed over me as I took a few moments to simply gaze at him, mesmerized by the serene expression that graced his face in slumber.
His features, illuminated by the soft glow, were etched with a captivating blend of strength and tenderness.
Every line and curve told a story of resilience and unwavering devotion. The rise and fall of his chest with each steady breath was a reassuring rhythm, a reminder of the vitality of his presence in my life.
I traced the contours of his face with my eyes, from the strong jawline that spoke of determination to the gentle curve of his lips that held the capacity to convey both passion and kindness. His tousled hair, slightly disheveled from our shared moments of intimacy, added an endearing touch to his rugged charm.
My heart swelled with a profound affection that seemed to grow with every passing moment.
The more I got to know him, the more I realized the depth of the connection we shared. It was as if fate, in its mysterious design, had guided our paths to intertwine and brought us together in this transformative journey.
Maybe this tale was woven by the Moon goddess' hand.
I may not have been taught to believe in her growing up, but now I felt her fond gaze on Ezra and I.
Granted, we had gone through some rough patches we never thought we’d make it out of, but still… it was because of her that we were now waking up today, entangled in each other’s arms after a night of fiery passion and the culmination of longing.
A wave of tenderness washed over me as I recalled the countless ways Ezra had shown me his love and support.
His unwavering presence during my moments of vulnerability, his gentle touch that soothed away my worries, and the genuine concern that emanated from his every word — all of these moments had slowly but surely woven a tapestry of affection within my heart.
I could not help but wonder at the beauty of this unexpected bond that had blossomed between us.
We had walked divergent paths, marred by heartbreak and betrayal, yet somehow, our broken roads converged, creating something new and extraordinary.
It was a union born from the scars of the past, an intertwining of two wounded souls seeking solace and healing in each other's embrace.
Two broken souls crossing paths by some stroke of fate and providing each other promises of a better future together.
In his arms, I found safety and a sense of belonging that transcended the boundaries of time and space.
And, hopefully, in my presence, he found healing as well. I wanted to return the affection I felt from him, and give it back twofold.
I wanted him to know that I appreciated him in his entirety, and that I would never want it any other way with another man.
It was as if we were meant to find each other, to bring light to each other's darkest corners, and to heal the wounds that were once thought to be irreparable.
I leaned in closer, my fingertips delicately tracing the contours of his cheek, reveling in the gentleness of his touch even in his slumber.
My heart whispered a silent promise to cherish and protect this… whatever this is that had blossomed between us, to nurture it with tenderness and vulnerability.
Moreover… I also noticed, especially last night, how he took care of me first, made sure that I felt pleasure and climaxed, before serving his needs afterward.
It was not quite love, I think. Not yet. But maybe we're getting there.
In that intimate moment, with the morning light casting its ethereal glow upon us, I was filled with a renewed sense of hope. Finally, I was able to feel that I, too, deserved good things in life, and that I can have those things if I trusted the right people.
As I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, I was reminded that in his arms, I had found not only a partner but also a confidant, a person who saw and accepted me for who I was.
However, just like all good things must come to an end, my stomach growling in protest for some food made me aware that I hadn't been eating properly for the last two days due to my fever and now, my body was protesting from the lack of nourishment.
Slowly, I extricated myself from his arms, careful not to wake him up, and when I stood from the bed, I nearly fell over, my legs wobbling.
Oh god, oh fuck. I couldn't walk.
Shit. What now?
My hands on the wall for support, I tried to steady myself, and forced my legs to move, one foot at a time.
"Dammit," I muttered, before taking slow steps to the side of the room and reaching for my closet to get a pair of pants and a t-shirt and putting them on as soundlessly as I could.
As I very slowly walked out of the room and into the kitchen, my legs still wobbling beneath me, soreness in between my legs, my mind wandered, and a sudden pang of guilt tugged at my heart, reminding me of the choices I made.
Each step felt heavier as I contemplated my actions, questioning whether I have strayed too far from the teachings ingrained in me since childhood. Teachings that my parents, especially my mother, had drilled into my head like a mantra until it was all I knew.
I had always been taught that I shouldn't sleep with someone before marriage, let alone someone who wasn't my boyfriend or fiancé.
Well, look what happened.
As I tried to process the thought in my mind, I set out to make a steaming cup of coffee to wake me up and help me deal with my own demons.
The familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, providing a small solace amidst my inner turmoil, but the fleeting sense of comfort was gone as soon as it came.
As I prepared my beverage, I couldn't help but replay the events of the previous night in my mind.
Thoughts of tradition and societal expectations intermingled with memories of my ex-fiancé, Ravi, and his betrayal.
The image of him and my own cousin entwined in an illicit affair resurfaced, a painful reminder that love and loyalty can be shattered regardless of moral codes.
They hadn't cared about tradition or morals and started having an affair right under my very nose, so why should I stick to the rules they imposed on me?