Page 12 of My Only

I lay on my stomach, camera in hand, the LCD screen raised to eye level as I focused my lens on the villa in front of me.

I clicked the shutter button, listening to the soft whirr of the shutter curtain opening and closing—allowing light to hit the sensor, capturing yet another breathtaking piece of this paradise.

It was the last day of our honeymoon in Saint Lucia.

And a week on this island wasn’t enough.

Our private villa sat tucked away on the lush, tropical island, spaced out from the neighboring villas and facing the ocean. Turquoise water stretched as far as the eye could see, while palm trees and thick greenery framed the horizon.

The sun shined differently out here. Not harsh, not overbearing, but warm and golden. The kind of sunlight that kissed your skin rather than burned it.

I loved the way my skin glowed after spending my days under the open sky, the sun’s rays blessing me at every angle.

According to Hassani, the villa’s open space I immediately fell in love with was an open-concept design.

To me?

It was simply a luxurious, temporary paradise—floor-to-ceiling windows, a private infinity pool that seemed to spill effortlessly into the ocean, and the kind of view that made you want to stay lost in the moment forever.

I turned onto my back on the chaise lounge, shifting my gaze toward the ocean, only to catch Hassani watching me.

His golden eyes flickered between me and his sketchbook, pencil moving effortlessly along the white page.

Him and that sketchbook.

They were as inseparable as umbrellas and tropical drinks.

No matter where we were, Hassani was sketching something. His mind was always at work, bombarded with architectural inspiration—even here, on our honeymoon.

“Why am I not surprised that the little black book is here with us?” I teased, pulling another bikini from my suitcase. “I swear that sketchbook’s cover never gets cold the way you always have it in your grip.”

“Ha, ha,” he said in a deadpan tone, pulling open the drawer of a bedside table in our villa’s bedroom. “Always with the jokes.”

We had just arrived in the villa, still unpacking before heading out to explore.

I was still riding high from the wedding—the only thing that could possibly compete with it was our wedding night. And now, a day later, we were on our honeymoon, hoping to keep the high going.

I lifted my gaze to the ceiling, mesmerized by how stunning every detail of the villa was.

“Yeah, you see it,” Hassani noted quietly.

I glanced at him, catching the smirk tugging at his lips.

“This place is inspiring,” he added, eyes sweeping across the space. He nodded. “And I’m gonna soak it all in… my way.”

That’s exactly what he had done and so had I.

Our days had been filled with snorkeling in crystal-clear water, lounging on the beach, exploring the island. Our nights were spent skinny-dipping in the infinity pool beneath a blanket of stars.

And the lovemaking.

God.

Lots and lots of lovemaking.

Sitting here now, on this chaise lounge, had been the longest we’d gone without putting our hands on each other.

Saint Lucia had been a dream.

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