Page 57 of Vintage

Amery leaned in closer, her scent enveloping me, as her fingers glided up my arm, feeling the tension that coiled between us.

The fire in her eyes extinguished any lingering doubts in my mind.

"I trust you, Ro. I trust the man who would choose me time and again. I know it won't be easy for us to get through this, but we will."

In the soft light of the bar, time seemed to stretch as we swayed to the soft rhythm of the music, the world faded, leaving only the two of us entwined in a moment that felt both intimate and electric. The air aroundus buzzed with a longing that transcended mere touch—a deep craving for connection, for comfort amid the chaos that threatened to engulf us.

As I twirled her gently, I caught her glancing at my lips before she noticed me looking at her. Each fleeting gaze felt like a promise of something deeper.

A wave of emotion washed over me, the closeness of the dance stirring something intense and passionate inside.

She leaned in and whispered, “No matter what happens, we’ll face it together.”

I shot her a smoldering look that made her shiver. Leaning in close, I playfully nipped at her earlobe, and she let out a soft moan, gripping my t-shirt tightly. “Always.”

"Ro," she breathed, her eyes locked onto mine, caught in this painful tension that felt like it was asking too much.

"No," I pressed my lips against hers. "I’ll touch you like you’re mine once I’ve settled my debt."

"Debt?" She looked utterly bewildered.

"Yes, my love. The mistake of not protecting you and allowing anything or anyone to intrude on our marriage. It’s your debt to me; you forgave me despite the hurt I caused, and now I’ll show you how much that means to me. Your trust in me was invaluable."

I kissed her forehead, and she nodded in silence.

"I’m not sure about legends, Amir Rowan, but I believe it when my grandma first saw you and said..." As we intertwined our fingers, she swayed with me, my hand resting on her waist and hers draped around my neck.

"What did she say?" I asked, intrigued, since I never thought of her grandma as someone who talked much or even liked me. Maybe there was more to the story.

My wife let out a soft giggle and planted a kiss on my shirt, right where my heart was racing wildly from her playful actions. The scent of lilies she wore was absolutely mesmerizing.

"This guy is tied to the end of your red string," she said. Then she spoke something in Mandarin, and since I had no idea what it meant, I just smiled back at her.

"Aren't you curious about what I said?" she pouted, but I shook my head. I didn’t need to know; whatever it was, it carried a special meaning that was better left unspoken.

"Sometimes, things are just meant to be without needing an explanation. I think that was her true intention too, saying it to you and not to me or us specifically."

She stood on her tiptoes and tugged me down by my t-shirt, sealing our lips together.

Her touch feels like home to me, and I know deep down that she is my fate.

Chapter Twenty Four

Istare at my reflection in the cracked mirror, the faint light from the hallway spilling over the edges, casting long shadows. My breath is uneven, shallow, like I’m suffocating under the weight of what I’ve become. The image staring back at me is distorted, like it’s not mine. My own face looks unfamiliar, twisted in the haze of a lifetime of lies.

I grit my teeth, my fingers twitching at my sides.Willow, I think, but it’s not her. Not really. It’s me. It’s always been me. I’ve become a stranger to myself. But there she is again, that girl who I used to protect.Willow.

She’s standing there, just behind me, in the reflection. I can almost feel the warmth of her breath on my neck, the soft touch of her hand on my shoulder, like she’s still here, like she’s not dead.

"I couldn’t save you," I whisper to the glass, my voice rough, like it hasn’t been used in years. "I couldn't protect you, and now I can’t let it go. I never could." My fingers clutch the edge of the sink, knuckles white.

I close my eyes, trying to block out the memories of her laughter, her bright eyes before they dimmed, before she was taken from me. By him. ByTyson.

The weight of her absence is crushing, but it’s not just that. It’s the truth, the horrible truth I’ve tried to bury beneath layers of rage and lies. I’ve spent years blaming him for her death, for my own brokenness. I blamed him for every nightmare, every tear that never stopped, every part of me that shattered when I found out she was gone.

But the truth... the truth stings like poison.

I’m not sure when it happened. When I became the villain in my own story. When I lost myself so completely that I could wear the mask of my sister. But here I am, staring at her face in my reflection, and it’s like I’ve turned into her. I took her place. IbecameWillow.

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