Secrets of Us A Forbidden Love Romance (Alina)

Chapter 232

He Is Home

The drive back his quiet.

| feel the lump in my throat, my mouth dry. It makes my tongue stick to the top of my mouth and I don't even

know how to start this conversation.

Zaid has one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh, and | can see the way his fingers flex every so

often. | want to reach for his hand, place it on my lap and caress his

skin.

But | don't know what he needs fromright now. His jaw is tight. He hasn't said a word since we left Elena's.

The soft hum of the engine fills the silence between us. Music no longer plays from the speakers, and my

thoughts are anything but quiet.

My stomach twists, each turn of the road feeling like it coils the nerves in my gut tighter and tighter. | can't stop

thinking about Elena's offer and what that means forand

Zaid.

A full year in Florence, of painting, of freedom, of finally stepping into something that feels like it was made just

for me. It feels like a godsend.

| glance at Zaid. The tension in his shoulders, the way he's chewing on the inside

of his cheek. Leaving him now, after everything, feels like the cruelest thing I could ever do.

"Zaid," | whisper as we turn into the house.

He doesn't look at me. He pulls into the garage and parks. For a moment, he just sits there. Then finally, he says

quietly, "It's okay. You don't have to make your decision based

on me."

Before | can argue, he's out of the car.

| follow him into the hous my chest tight, my hands useless at my sides. He walks straight to the kitchen,

standing at the island with his hands shoved into his pockets, staring down like the marble surface holds the

answer to all of this.

I walk around the island, pushing myself between him and the counter until his body has

no choice but to make space for mine. | reach up and cup his face, forcing him to look at

1. me.

1/4

He Is Home

"Zaid," | say softly. "You must not understand what | feel for you. Everything | do, | take you into account. Every

choice, every thought, you're in there. In my head, in my heart.

Always."

His eyes close and he leans forward, his forehead pressing gently against mine. He breathesin, and | watch

as goosebumps cover his skin. His hands finally move, wrapping around my waist, draggingclose until

there's nothing left between us.

My chest is against his, my legs pressed with his, our hips touching. | hum, satisfied by the feeling of his body

pressed to mine. We're two puzzle pieces that have finally found

each other.

"I'm going to miss you," he whispers.

My brows pinch. "I haven't even decided yet."

He pulls back just enough to look at me, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. His

umb lingers against my cheek.

"Of course you're going," he says, so gently it almost breaks me. "You can't not go, Alina. It's an amazing

opportunity. You have to go. You'll regret it if you don't."

My throat thickens. "I don't know if | can go a year without you."

He smiles, soft and sad all at once. "Maybe that's exactly why you should go."

We stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other. | don't want to be separated from him for so long. It's

unfathomable.

He pulls back with a spark in his eye, like we weren't just on the verge of crying. "Con. | have a surprise for

you."

| blink. "What?"

He takes my hand and starts walking us toward the stairs. "Your birthday present.

It just tooklonger to put it together."

"Zaid, what? You're lying." | try to laugh it off, but | want to disappear into the ground because no part of me

feels like | deserve something else from him right

now.

He doesn't answer. Just keeps walkingup to the second floor, toward the room he's

2/4

He Is Home

always joked about turning into a groom. | frown.

"I don't play video games," | remind him, a teasing smile on my face.

He chuckles, his fingers squeezing mine. "Yeah. Good thing this isn't a groom."

When he opens the door, my breath leaves me.

| step inside slowly, heart pounding, eyes darting from corner to corner. There's an easel set up in the center of

the room, a wooden stool in front of it. Brand new brushes sit in glass jars, sorted by size. Tubes of paint are

stacked neatly on the side table, and next to them, a few of the paintings my father did. Hung on the walls under

soft spotlights.

There's a large window that leads to the porch, and I can already imagine the way light will pour in here in the

mornings.

New blank canvases lean against the wall, waiting for me.

My body goes numb. The world muffles aroundlike I'm underwater. | turn to him with tears in my eyes.

He smiles, gently and yet a little nervous. "Now you won't have to hunch over your desk anymore-"

But he doesn't get to finish the sentence.

| cross the room in three quick steps and kiss him. My arms wrap around his neck, bringing him in closer to me.

He catchesinstantly, hands on my waist, lips moving with mine. There's no awkwardness or hesitation in our

movements. It's the most natural thing to be with

him.

When we finally pull apart, I'm breathless. And more certain than ever that no matter

where | go, this is home.

He is home.