Page 6 of Love Under Siege

I rub my eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess. “Hey, what’s going on?” I ask, still feeling disoriented. “When did I go to sleep?”

Jacob envelops me in a warm soothing hug. “You were pretty worn out when you cried yourself to sleep, so I carried you to the room.”

Embarrassed by my vulnerability, I bow my head. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”

Jacob softly strokes my cheek with his knuckles. “Babe, you never need to apologize for feeling tired or overwhelmed,” he whispers. When I try to look away again, he gently lifts my chin, his eyes locking onto mine. “Anya, you don’t have to say sorry for telling me how you feel or what you need.” His words cut through the layers of self-doubt and insecurity that have clouded my mind for so long.

I’ve grown accustomed to constantly apologizing for my emotions, to suppressing my needs and desires, and always feeling like an afterthought in the lives of others. It’s been a pattern not just with Paul, but also with my parents. The weight of feeling insignificant, and inadequate, has burdened me for years. Each time I’ve dared to voice my feelings, I’ve been met with the need to apologize.

But Jacob’s reassurance breaks through that cycle, his words offer a beacon of light in the darkness of my doubts. The realization that I don’t have to apologize for being myself, for expressing what’s in my heart, overwhelms me. Tears well up in my eyes once more as the weight of years of suppression begins to lift, replaced by a newfound sense of freedom.

He cups my face, his touch tender yet firm, and locks eyes with me. “The sun never apologizes for rising and setting,” he begins, his voice soft yet resolute. “It is as perfect as it is absolute. It wasn’t until I met you that I realized just how insignificant my world was. You have opened my eyes to a world beyond comparison.”

His words wash over me like a warm embrace, filling me with a sense of belonging and importance I’ve never felt before. “Anya, you have become my world,” he continues, his gaze unwavering. “I find myself enveloped within your heart, and for as long as I am blessed to remain a part of your world, you shall never have to apologize for being that which has ensnared me body and soul.”

I laugh, wiping away my tears. “What are we pretending to be, Mr. Darcy now?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

He leans in, his warmth sending a rush of goosebumps across my skin. “Is it working?” he teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief before planting a soft kiss on my neck. A shiver runs down my spine, and I laugh, gently pushing him away. “Nice try, but I’m immune to cheesy lines now,” I say with a smile, teasing him right back. He chuckles and gives me a side smirk. “Uh huh, sure…”

“Nope, sorry, you’re gonna have to do better than that!” I challenge.

He wraps his arms around my waist, his breath tickling my ear. My skin tingles with anticipation as his hand moves to the inside of my thigh. “Why don’t we test that theory then?” he suggests mischievously, his hands inching closer to my inner thigh. “Let’s see how much I don’t affect you.”

My breath hitches, and heat floods my body as Jacob holds me tighter, leaning in to kiss me...

“Ahem.”

We both turn towards the noise and see my Pops awkwardly standing there with a coffee mug in his hand. “Pardon the, uh, intrusion, but I just need to refill my, um, cup,” he says, making a hasty retreat towards the coffee pot.

My face flushes red, and once Pops leaves the kitchen, both Jacob and I burst into laughter. “Seems like we have a knack for getting interrupted,” he remarks.

I laugh as I grab a drink and help myself to a plate of the lasagna that was left for me before I fell asleep. “You know, I can’t say I’ve ever had lasagna with cream cheese instead of ricotta,” Jacob remarks, sounding surprised.

“Yeah, my Nana makes it like this,” I say, taking a bite. “She boils chicken or beef broth and stirs in a block of cream cheese.” I grin. “Lana, being Italian, says it’s practically a sin against her culture and should be illegal.”

“Didn’t she grow up in Virginia?” Jacob asks, raising an eyebrow.

I nod, laughing. “Yes, but she’s still half Italian, and she takes thatveryseriously.

“You’re goddamn right I do!” Lana shouts as she comes barging into the kitchen. I’m startled at first but then slowly calm down when I see Lana’s face. She grimaces realizing maybe barging in the house after not too long ago Caleb scared the shit out of me, wasn’t the best choice. She mouths an “I’m sorry” but I shrug it off, “don’t worry about it, I’m just glad it's you” I reassure her.

She smiles, but it quickly shifts to a look of feign disgust when she sees the lasagna on the table. “As my best friend, you should be boycotting that as a sign of your loyalty,” she quips.

“But I’m hungry,” I reply, my mouth full. “And as my best friend, you should know that keeping me fed is the utmost priority,” I tease back.

She rolls her eyes and stares at the lasagna disapprovingly. “Besides, I actually prefer this lasagna to the original recipe” I add.

Lana immediately looks shocked, placing her hand on her chest. “How dare you betray me like that!”

Jacob snorts, and she glares at him. “I have to agree with Anya, this is way better,” he adds to the teasing.

Lana scoffs. “Heathens, both of you!” she says dramatically.

We all laugh, and she keeps glancing between the food and me. Finally, I speak up, “Do you want to try some?”

She scoffs, drawing out the “Nope,” with an exaggerated “p.” Just then, her stomach growls, and Jacob and I exchange amused looks, struggling to stifle our laughter. Lana shoots a glare at her stomach, muttering, “Traitor”.

I smile, shaking my head as I stand to grab her plate. After placing a small piece of lasagna on it, I hand it back to her. She stares at it like a kid being forced to eat their least favorite vegetable. “Come on, just try it. If you hate it, I’ll finish it for you,” I say with a grin. She slumps her shoulders in defeat and grabs the plate. She hesitates before putting the fork in her mouth, but when she does, her eyes light up.

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