Page 48 of Eat Slay Love

And the moment I rose to my feet, I expected him to let my hand go.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his grip stayed firm, his thumb absentmindedly gliding across my knuckles as he led me forward, guiding me like I was precious.

Like he wanted me close.

And Lord help me, I loved it.

God this is a perfect night.

I couldn’t wait to tell my therapist and even Laila. They both would scream with joy.

What were the odds that I would meet him? Well. . .I am worthy. I am deserving. So. . .he came to me.

The tunnel ahead was bathed in an ethereal white glow, stretching forward like a path into another world.

The other couples moved through it in hushed awe, their steps slow, as if crossing some invisible threshold into magic.

Fabien and I walked together, fingers laced, his presence an anchor beside me.

And for once, I didn’t overthink the way I fit next to him.

I didn’t shrink.

Didn’t second-guess.

Didn’t let the old doubts whisper their cruel nonsense in my ear.

I belonged here.

With him.

And when we reached the end of the tunnel, my breath hitched.

Because—holy shit.

What greeted my eyes wasn’t another dining room, or even a secret chamber.

It was an underground subway station.

What the hell?!

And it wasn’t just any subway station.

The entire thing gleamed—polished marble stretching high and wide, chandeliers dripping light from above, gold inlay shimmering like veins running through the walls.

Unlike a typical New York train system, the tracks were pristine, without a hint of grime or vermin. And the walls had no graffiti.

Now they are just blowing my damn mind!

In front of us stood the most exquisite subway train I had ever seen.

It wasn’t some battered MTA deathtrap—it looked like a train pulled from a billionaire’s fever dream.

Polished steel.

Gilded doors.

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