Page 88 of Oliver
"I need you."
My heart ached from his words. They weren’t about a plan or a role he needed me to fulfill. It was a deeper kind of need, one that only existed when someone’s absence created an emptiness that nothing else could quite fill.
It was the kind of need I’d been harboring for him since our almost kiss at the park.
The request hung between us, heavy with hope and fear.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Not wanting to ruin this moment with questions about what he was still hiding, about why he wouldn't trust me with his secrets when he'd just trusted me with everything else.
That conversation was for later.
In this room, in this moment, I wanted to bask in our growing connection—in our expanding trust.
I brushed my lips against his, a gentle acknowledgment of what had passed between us, and his arms tightened around me as if he was trying to mold me into him.
Outside, the sun was setting, painting the room in amber and gold, the light casting soft shadows over our entwined bodies.
The rehearsal dinner would start soon.
Ryan would be there, watching, waiting.
But for now, we were just Oliver and Zahra.
No pretense.
No performance.
Just the hope that our trust wasn’t misguided.
Twenty-Six
ZAHRA
I smoothedthe front of my purple cocktail dress, checking my reflection in the mirror one last time.
Professional. Composed. Unflappable.
The dress's sleeves were long enough to conceal Ryan's fingerprints on my arm, and the neckline hid Oliver's marks on my collarbone. Perfect for maintaining appearances while my world threatened to collapse beneath my feet.
The rehearsal dinner was set to begin in twenty minutes. Most of the wedding party was already gathering in the hotel’s private dining room, their excited chatter spilling into the hallway where I stood.
I took one more steadying breath, then plastered on my event planner smile and pushed through the double doors.
The room was beautifully arranged, tables adorned with tasteful floral centerpieces, candlelight casting a soft glow over white linens. Under different circumstances, I would have been proud of how perfectly everything had come together.
Instead, I was focused on making it through the night, trying not to misstep in the minefield I was navigating.
Oliver stood near the bar, deep in conversation with Darryl. His hair was still damp from our joint shower, his blue button-down bringing out the intensity of his eyes behind his glasses. He glanced up as I entered, and the radiant smile that twinkled in his gaze made my stomach flutter.
I started toward him, but before I could take three steps, one of Parisa's bridesmaids intercepted me with questions about tomorrow's transportation schedule. By the time I'd answered, another wedding guest needed clarification about the ceremony seating. Then the venue coordinator pulled me aside with an issue about the flower delivery.
Each time I tried to make my way to Oliver, someone else appeared with a wedding emergency that only I could solve. It was as if the universe itself was conspiring to keep us apart.
Ryan, meanwhile, seemed to be everywhere at once. Each time I turned around, he was there, watching me with those calculating eyes. He wasn’t bothering with fake smiles tonight, just leering with a simmering anger. His casual comments about "trouble in paradise" and asking others loud enough for me to hear if they thought Oliver and I would "make it past the wedding" were always made within earshot.
His voice carried across the room as he told some groomsmen, "You can always tell when the honeymoon phase is over. They can barely look at each other now."
I gritted my teeth, focusing on the clipboard in my hands, on being the consummate professional everyone expected. But with each passing minute, the tension in my shoulders wound tighter, my smile becoming increasingly brittle.
