Secrets of Us A Forbidden Love Romance (Alina)

Chapter 220

Leather Journals

The rest of the trip passes in by in contentment. Peace.

We don't have another confrontation or a deep conversation, and I'm thankful for it. Even

more thankful that we aren't forced to share a bed again.

When Zaid woke up, he pulled away like | had burned him.

And maybe | had.

I burn for him.

For once, things are easy. We exist in the sspace without feeling the need to fill the silence, and it doesn't

feel like something is missing. It feels full in its own

quiet way.

| rest my head against the window, watching the blur of trees and signs pass. Zaid hums along to the music,

tapping the wheel in rhythm, and every now and then, he glances at

1. me.

| never look directly at him, because although | feel better than | have in days, sometimes it's still too much. The

heaviness hasn't disappeared completely, but it's settled. Like we're learning how to carry it.

We had to stop by and buy a couple of coats and blankets, neither one of us used to the

weather this far east and north.

By the twe reach Virginia, the sun is low, casting everything in a beautiful orange light.

The air smells different here, fresher, cleaner. Hopeful, almost. And the glass against my

cheek is cold.

Zaid pulls off the road and drives up the narrow gravel path that winds around a gentle hill. When the house

comes into view, my breath catches.

It's exactly how | remember it from the listing. The white wood, the wraparound porch, the tall windows that |

just know make the house feel light and bright.

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My eyes shift to the sign in the front yard and the large bold letters that spell out 'sold'.

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My stomach sours, sadness creeping into my eyes. "It's sold."

Zaid says nothing and when | turn to face him, there's a quiet smile on his face.

I frown, confused, and turn back to the house. "Wait... what?"

He puts the car in park and unlocks the doors.

"You got it?" | whisper, stunned.

He nods. "Made scalls. Got my dad to help. We bought it."

My mouth falls open and | just stare at him. "Zaid."

But | don't wait for more words. I'm already unbuckling, flying out of the car, running up

the porch and around the back.

Tears of joy spark in my eyes when | see the lake.

It sparkles beneath the setting sun like church windows. It's surrounded by trees whose leaves are touching the

water. It's even better than | imagined. Peaceful. Still. Like tmight actually stop here.

| gasp, pressing both hands over my mouth. "It's beautiful," | say, voice thick.

He's beside me, quiet, watchingwith soft eyes. His hands in his pockets. "Yeah, it's

perfect."

We walk around the porch, and he squats by the front door where the lockbox is. My heart hammers in my chest

when he opens it, and | laugh when he unlocks the front door.

Inside, the house is empty but alive. With hardwood floors, big open rooms, windows that beg for sunlight, and

maybe one day, a dog skidding across the floors.

He letswalk ahead of him, exploring room by room, pointing things out, imagining

what each space could be.

"You get first dibs," Zaid says. "Pick out whatever rooms you want. Whatever you need."

I laugh, spinning around in the center of what the living room, arms wide like | can take in the whole world. "This

feels like a fresh start."

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Then | stop and look at him with narrowed eyes. "I can't believe you bought it without even seeing it in person

first."

He shrugs, all casual. "It's the house you wanted. | wanted to make sure you got

it."

Something twists in my chest. Warm and painful and tender.

He brings in our bags. | mostly hover, pretending to be helpful. For a little while,

we just sit on the floor and admire the space.

And then it hits me, too hard, too fast.

A vision flashes behind my eyes. A wedding dress. Laughter echoing down the

hall. Tiny feet running across the porch. A family. Our family.

| blink hard and shove it away, clutching my chest. Not now. | need to focus on the right now. That's all that

matters.

We order takeout, Thai, and eat cross-legged on the floor with two lamps plugged

in, soft music humming from Zaid's phone, and blankets spread out like a little camp in the middle of the room.

It's cozy. Simple. And then Zaid shifts, reaching for his bag.

"I have something for you."

He looks almost unsure, insecure. | lean toward him, frowning. What else could he

have gotten me? He's already givenso much.

He smiles sheepishly and hands it towithout a word. | look down. It's a leather-bound journal, smooth and

new, blank pages waiting to be filled. | run my hands over the cover, then flip through the empty pages.

| frown, confused, but then I look up at him and he's nervous. Like he's afraid |

won't understand what this means.

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"It's for the new chapter," he says.

| swallow, nodding, but still not really getting it.

He handsa pen. "I thought we could write down what we want for our lives now that

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Leather Journals

we have a fresh start. Our dreams. Our goals."

He pulls out another journal from his bag, and my eyes follow his hands. The leather is worn, creased at the

corners. "| started mine the night we left."

My heart cracks right open.

| hold the journal like it's made of gold. Like it might fall apart in my hands if | breathe wrong. | trace the leather

with my fingers, blinking against the sting in my eyes.

"Zaid. | don't... I've never really had a journal before."

"There's a first tfore everything."

| sit back, opening it to the first page, setting the pen against the paper.

Zaid doesn't say anything, just lays back on the blanket, his own journal in hand,

and

starts writing.

Side by side, we lay there, writing in silence. The music plays low, the food forgotten, the

night wrapping around us like a warm blanket.

And for the first tin a long time, | let myself hope.

| write down what | want.

1. Go to college.

2. Find my dad's family.

3. Zaid

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