Chapter 43

The morning light seeped through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Zaviya’s penthouse, but it did nothing to ease the heaviness in her heart. At nine o’clock, she sat curled up on her couch, her body trembling as sobs racked her. Her tears fell freely, staining her cheeks as she clutched a throw pillow against her chest, seeking solace that wouldn’t come.

The sound of the door unlocking barely registered in her mind, but the presence of her friends—Khali, Oliana, and Yevhen—did. They had come as soon as she called, knowing she wouldn’t reach out unless she was truly falling apart. The sight before them stopped them cold.

Zaviya looked broken. Her eyes were swollen and puffy, her nose red from crying. Around her were crumpled tissues strewn carelessly across the floor, evidence of hours spent drowning in anguish. Without hesitation, her friends rushed to her side, wrapping her in their arms as if their warmth could shield her from her pain.

They held her in silence until her sobs softened to quiet sniffles. Khali gently stroked her hair, Oliana rubbed soothing circles on her back, and Yevhen squeezed her shoulder in silent reassurance. When her breathing finally steadied, Oliana leaned back and asked softly, “Zavi, what happened? Why are you like this?”

Zaviya opened her mouth to speak, but her throat tightened. Her eyes welled up again as the words caught in her chest. She struggled to steady herself before whispering, “Alastair was here last night.”

Her friends exchanged glances, pity and concern etched into their faces. Khali’s voice was soft yet probing, “She was here? What happened, dear? Did you talk to her? Did you listen to her this time?”

Yevhen chimed in, her tone tinged with hope. “You told us before your trip to Singapore that you were going to talk to her. Did you two… finally work things out? Are you back in each other’s arms?”

At those words, Zaviya broke again. She shook her head vehemently, her sobs returning with a vengeance. Her hands gripped the throw pillow tighter, as if holding on for dear life. “No,” she choked out. “No, that’s not what happened.”

Her friends shared a look of confusion, their brows furrowing as they tried to piece together what could have gone wrong. Oliana leaned in, her voice patient yet firm. “Then what happened, Zavi? Please, enlighten us. We’re here for you.”

Taking a shuddering breath, Zaviya wiped her tears with the sleeve of her sweater. Her voice trembled as she began, “I—I planned to talk to her, I really did. That’s what I wanted. But it didn't goes as planned. Let me tell you what happened… from the day I left for Singapore… to the moment I saw Alastair again last night.”

Flashbacks....................................

The sun filtered through the massive windows of Khali's penthouse, casting a warm glow over the group of friends gathered around the elegant dining table. Laughter filled the air as Zaviya, Khali, Yevhen, and Oliana exchanged stories and caught up over a sumptuous lunch. The dishes on the table remained half-eaten, as the conversation was far more delicious than the food.

Yevhen, ever the nosy and playful one, leaned forward with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Zaviya, tell us the truth. Are you dating your ex, Irfan?" she asked, her voice cutting through the lighthearted atmosphere like a blade.

The suddenness of the question caught Zaviya off guard. Her fork froze mid-air, and her brows knitted in confusion before she forced a casual chuckle. "Of course not. I'm not dating him nor entertaining him," she replied firmly, but the faintest shadow crossed her face.

Khali and Oliana exchanged knowing glances. It was Oliana who pressed further, her tone laced with curiosity. "If that's so, why is he always picking you up? Bakit kayo madalas kumain sa labas na magkasama? Anong meron?"

Zaviya sighed, setting her fork down as she straightened in her chair. "Irfan and I are talking about business. His newly opened hotels needed high-end security, and that's why he reached out to me," she explained, her voice calm but tinged with weariness as if she had rehearsed this explanation before.

Khali, however, was not about to let it slide. Her gaze narrowed, her intrigue evident. "Hmmmm? Nakita ko noong isang araw may pabulaklak. Ano 'yon? Para saan 'yon?" she asked, her tone teasing yet probing.

A soft, incredulous laugh escaped Zaviya’s lips. It was a sound both light and heavy, masking the emotions that swirled beneath her calm facade. "Oh my gosh, you think I’m cheating while I’m still married? Do you?" she said, shaking her head as if dismissing the absurdity of the notion. "Nah, guys, I’m not like that. Although," she paused, her voice dropping slightly, "Irfan did say he wants to court me again since he knows about Alastair and me. He was there when I was in Denmark. He's a good listener."

Her words hung in the air, a bittersweet confession that drew a subtle silence from the table. "But," Zaviya continued, her voice firm, "I clearly told him that I could only offer being friends. Nothing more. What we do is purely and entirely for business."

Yevhen nodded approvingly. "Mabuti naman kung ganoon," she said, her tone softening as the tension eased.

But despite the lightheartedness they tried to maintain, an unspoken weight lingered in the room. The topic naturally shifted to Zaviya and Alastair—specifically, the fractured state of their marriage. The once unshakeable bond between them now seemed to hang by a thread, heavy with unresolved pain and unanswered questions.

Oliana glanced at Zaviya cautiously, her voice soft yet careful. “Zavi, don’t get mad, ah? But… how are you and Alastair? Hmm? How long do you plan on avoiding her? Don’t you think it’s time to talk about what happened?”

Zaviya’s gaze dropped to the floor, her fingers tightly gripping the hem of her sweater. Her silence was deafening, but Oliana’s words hung in the air, impossible to ignore.

Khali, seated across from Zaviya, leaned forward. “Hmm, yes, Zavi. We know you're hurt, disappointed, and that you feel betrayed. But… don’t you think it’s time to hear Alastair out? To listen to her side? It’s been four months already, and honestly, this isn’t doing either of you any good.”

Yevhen reached for Zaviya’s hand, her warmth a stark contrast to Zaviya’s cold demeanor. “I’m mad at her too for what she did to you, babe. I really am. But don’t you think there’s a reason behind it? Don’t you think Alastair deserves a chance to explain? To tell you her truth? You don’t have to forgive her, not if you don’t want to, but maybe you’ll finally have peace once you’ve heard her out.”

Oliana gently placed a hand on Zaviya’s shoulder, her expression a mix of concern and affection. “We love you, Zavi. We hate seeing you like this—so hurt, so closed off. You’re trying to be strong, I know, but… don’t you think your heart already knows what it wants? Maybe it’s time to let it guide you.”

Zaviya’s lips quivered as she fought back the tears threatening to fall. “Thank you, girls, for understanding my pain,” she began, her voice trembling. “Honestly… in these past months, I’ve thought about what to do more times than I can count. I’m so hurt—so betrayed. By my parents. By Alastair.” Her voice cracked at the mention of her wife’s name. “I can’t understand how they could do this to me.”

A tear slid down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away, her hand shaking. “But… even with all this pain, even with all this anger… I can’t stop loving her. It’s like my heart doesn’t belong to me anymore. It only knows her. It only beats for her.”

Khali’s expression softened further, her voice gentle as she said, “Then maybe it’s time, Zavi. Maybe it’s time to hear her out.” She hesitated before continuing, “You see how she hasn’t given up, right? How she’s still trying, still begging for your forgiveness—even when you push her away? Alastair loves you, Zavi. Deeply. We see it. And I think… I think you feel it too.”

Zaviya’s walls began to crumble as she released a shuddering breath. “I know,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “But the pain I feel is… insurmountable. It’s consumed me. Every time I see her, I can’t help but feel mad, betrayed, lost. But…” She hesitated, her hands trembling as her emotions spilled over. “This past month, especially when I stayed at her cabin… and then in my penthouse, away from her… I’ve had time to think. To reflect.”

Her tears fell freely now, and her friends moved closer, their silent support wrapping around her like a warm embrace. “I’m ready,” she finally admitted, her voice barely audible. “I’m ready to listen to her. To hear her truth. We’ll talk. I promise. But not yet. I have a business conference in Singapore for three days. After that… after I return, we’ll sort things out.”

Her words hung in the air, a fragile hope tethering her to the love she couldn’t quite let go of. Despite the pain, despite the betrayal, Zaviya’s heart still yearned for Alastair, still ached for the woman who had hurt her but who also loved her fiercely.

Her friends wrapped her in their warmth, their words of encouragement soft yet steady. They knew that this step—this willingness to listen—was the beginning of something. Perhaps the beginning of forgiveness. Perhaps the beginning of mending what had been broken.

As Zaviya sat amidst her friends, her tears slowly subsiding, she couldn’t help but wonder if her heart could bear the truth. But one thing was certain: her love for Alastair had never faltered, even in the darkest of times. And maybe, just maybe, that love would be enough to lead them back to each other.

*********************The next day, Zaviya boarded a flight to Singapore for a business conference. She tried her best to keep her mind occupied with work, but no amount of presentations or networking could quiet the ache in her chest. For three days, she went through the motions, her polished demeanor masking the turmoil beneath. Despite the physical distance between them, her thoughts remained tethered to Alastair. The conversations they hadn’t yet had, the things they hadn’t yet said—those haunted her. She was hurt, yes, but she knew Alastair was in pain too. Somehow, despite the chaos, she still held onto the fragile hope that they could mend what was broken.

On her final day in Singapore, Zaviya found herself seated in a quiet corner of a bustling restaurant. She stirred her coffee absentmindedly, her mind a thousand miles away. She didn’t notice him at first, but then a familiar voice broke through the haze.

“Zaviya?”

Looking up, she saw Irfan, her ex, standing at her table. His presence was unexpected, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to react. He smiled—a warm, gentle smile—and asked if he could join her. She nodded, unsure of what else to do. Their conversation started casually enough, but Zaviya quickly noticed that Irfan was different. There was a softness in his voice, a tenderness in his gaze. He was being... sweet, perhaps overly so.

She had turned him down repeatedly over the past days and weeks, but today, his persistence was unrelenting. He leaned forward, his voice low but firm. “Zaviya, give me a chance. Let me prove myself to you. I can be the man you deserve. I’ll never hurt you like Alastair did.”

His words stung more than they should have. Zaviya clenched her hands tightly under the table, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her composure. She knew Irfan meant well, but the mere suggestion of replacing Alastair in her heart felt like a betrayal. Because no matter how fractured things were, no matter how deep the wounds ran, her heart had only ever belonged to one person.

And it wasn’t Irfan.

She placed her fork down carefully, her hands trembling as she exhaled deeply. Her voice, though soft, carried the weight of her resolve. “Irfan…” she began, her eyes meeting his. “I know what you’re feeling for me, and I appreciate your kindness, your intentions. But I’m a married woman.” She paused, her voice breaking slightly as tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like there was a chance for us again. But what I can offer you is only friendship—nothing more than that.”

Irfan’s expression shifted, the light in his eyes dimming as her words sank in. Zaviya pressed on, needing to say everything while she still had the courage. “Yes, Alastair hurt me. Her lies, her betrayal—they broke me. But she’s still my wife. And I still love her.” Her voice cracked as the tears she had been holding back began to fall, tracing silent trails down her cheeks. “My soul, my body, my heart—they’re all hers. They’ve always been hers. Even now, amidst all the pain, I can’t imagine loving anyone else. I hope you understand, Irfan. You’re a good man, and there’s someone out there who will choose you, over and over again, the way I’ve chosen Alastair.”

Her words hung in the air like a finality, the unspoken truths of her heart laid bare. Irfan looked away, his jaw tightening as he blinked rapidly. “I see,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of her rejection heavy between them. Then, almost hesitantly, he asked, “Can I... can I hug you? Just once, for the last time.”

Zaviya hesitated but nodded. He stood and wrapped his arms around her briefly, his touch warm but respectful. When he pulled away, there was a sadness in his eyes, but also acceptance. “I promise,” he said quietly, “I won’t push my feelings on you again. I respect your decision.”

After lunch, Irfan offered to drive her back to her hotel. She agreed, grateful that they could part on amicable terms. The car ride was quiet, the air between them heavy but no longer tense. By the time they reached her hotel, the sun was already beginning its descent, casting a golden glow over the city. Zaviya thanked him sincerely before heading inside to pack for her flight home.

Hours later, as the plane soared above the clouds, Zaviya stared out the window, her reflection barely visible in the glass. Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Alastair. She missed her—terribly, achingly so. She missed the warmth of her arms, the steadiness of her presence, the way her love had once made her feel invincible.

No matter how hard she tried, no one else could fill the void Alastair had left behind. Zaviya pressed a hand to her chest, as though trying to steady the ache in her heart. Alastair was her person. And no matter how broken they were, she couldn’t wait to see her again, to hear her voice, to listen to her side of the story.

Zaviya closed her eyes, letting her tears fall silently as the plane carried her home.

********************It was around 11 in the evening when the piercing sound of the doorbell echoed through the penthouse, dragging Zaviya from the deep, dreamless sleep she so desperately needed. Groggy and irritated, she forced herself upright, the faint glow of the clock on her nightstand glaring back at her. Just a few hours. That’s all the rest she managed to get after her exhausting flight back from Singapore. And now, this.

The buzzing persisted, accompanied by a relentless pounding on the door. She groaned, rubbing her temples before snatching her silk robe off the stand by her bed. Underneath, she was clad in nothing but her red Victoria's Secret satin lingerie—hardly an outfit she wanted to answer the door in, but whoever it was clearly wasn’t planning on giving up anytime soon.

Dragging her feet across the cold floor, Zaviya trudged toward the door, her frustration mounting with each step. She flung it open, ready to unleash a string of sharp words at whoever dared disturb her peace at this ungodly hour.

But the sight before her froze her tongue.

Alastair.

Her wife.

The weight of the woman leaning heavily against the door nearly sent her toppling to the floor. Reflexively, Zaviya reached out, wrapping her arms around Alastair to stop her from falling.

The realization hit her in waves—Alastair was drunk. Completely, utterly drunk.

The taller woman clung to her like a lifeline, her head lolling against Zaviya’s shoulder. "Alastair?" Zaviya's voice wavered, a mix of concern and irritation. She tapped her wife's shoulder, struggling to keep them both upright. "What the hell are you doing here? Bakit ka lasing? Tsk, you were drunk driving, weren’t you? Paano kung nabangga ka?" Her words came out like rapid-fire bullets, her worry thinly veiled by her frustration.

Alastair stirred, her glassy eyes attempting to focus on Zaviya’s face. A sloppy grin spread across her lips as she slurred, "Heyyyy, you’re so loud, woman." She hiccupped, her hand lazily brushing against Zaviya's cheek. "I’m searching for my wife’s door. Am I in the wrong room, miss? Wait what the fuck? You look like my Misis tsk."

Before Zaviya could respond, Alastair leaned closer, her nose grazing Zaviya’s neck as she sniffed. "argh fucking hell... you also smell like her." A drunken laugh bubbled up from her throat as she shook her head, clearly amused by her own antics. "But no, it can’t be you. If you were my wife, she wouldn’t let me get this close. She's mad at me and that's my fault."

Zaviya’s heart clenched, the weight of Alastair’s words cutting deeper than she expected. She watched as Alastair straightened herself, or at least attempted to. The taller woman swayed unsteadily, her legs threatening to give out beneath her.

"I’m sorry, miss," Alastair muttered, her voice tinged with a sliver of sadness. "I’ll leave. I need to find my wife." She turned away, wobbling precariously, her hand reaching out to steady herself against the wall.

"Alastair!" Zaviya’s voice cracked as she rushed forward, catching her wife just before she crumpled to the floor. Her arms encircled Alastair’s waist, holding her up with all the strength she could muster.

"Ano ba yan," Zaviya muttered under her breath, her frustration giving way to concern. "Bakit kasi nag-iinom ka? Arghhhh."

The weight was overwhelming. At 5’9, Zaviya wasn’t exactly petite, but Alastair, taller by a few inches and completely incapacitated, felt like dead weight in her arms. Gritting her teeth, Zaviya struggled to drag her inside the penthouse, her muscles straining with each step.

The door clicked shut behind them, sealing the two of them in the dimly lit space. Zaviya let out a shaky breath, her mind racing. She didn’t know what had driven Alastair to this state, but one thing was clear—she couldn’t leave her like this.

"Come on," she whispered, more to herself than to the drunken woman in her arms. "Let’s get you settled."

With every step, Zaviya’s irritation softened, replaced by an ache in her chest she didn’t want to name.

Zaviya’s heart pounded as she helped Alastair, the drunken woman murmured incoherent words, her head swaying with every step. Zaviya guided her to the big couch and gently laid her down. The sight of Alastair in this vulnerable state tugged at something deep within her.

“Stay here,” Zaviya whispered, though she doubted Alastair could hear her. She went to the kitchen, gathering a glass of water, a basin, and a towel. She took a moment to steel herself before returning.

When she came back, Alastair had already fallen into a restless sleep. Zaviya sighed softly, setting the basin and glass down before kneeling beside the couch. She carefully removed Alastair’s shoes, wincing as her head lolled dangerously close to the edge of the couch. Gently, she adjusted Alastair’s head, ensuring she was more comfortable.

But then she noticed the beads of sweat forming on Alastair’s brow. The alcohol must have been taking its toll. Zaviya hesitated for a moment before reaching for the buttons of Alastair’s gray long sleeves, undoing a few to let her breathe more easily. With delicate care, she wiped Alastair’s face and neck with the damp towel, her hands trembling slightly.

Suddenly, Alastair jolted awake, her eyes wide with panic. She grabbed Zaviya’s hand, her grip surprisingly firm despite her intoxication.

“Arhh, fuck! Who are you, miss?” Alastair slurred, her words barely comprehensible. “Please, I’m drunk, but I don’t want to have sex with you. Masasaktan ko na naman ang asawa ko, please…”

Zaviya froze, her breath catching in her throat as Alastair attempted to stand, only to collapse back onto the couch.

“Please let me go home,” Alastair begged, her voice breaking. “I want my wife. She’s the only woman I’m going to sleep with. I don’t want to hurt her again. I wreck her so much I don't want to add more.”

A sharp pang of pain shot through Zaviya’s chest. Her heart swelled with conflicting emotions—anger that Alastair didn’t recognize her, and pride that even in her drunken state, Alastair’s thoughts were consumed by her.

“Alastair, it’s me. Zaviya,” she said softly, though her voice betrayed a hint of exasperation. “Enough talking, please. Wag kang malikot. I’ll make you sober.”

But Alastair kept pushing her away, her words turning into a jumbled mess. “Mish, pleash leave me alone. I’m not going to do it with you. Bakit ba hawak ka ng hawak? I have money—like, lots of it. Go take them away. Don’t bother me.”

Zaviya’s patience snapped. She grabbed Alastair’s face, holding it firmly but gently. “Alastair, I’M ZAVIYA ANTONIA PORSILD-DEE. I am your wife. I’m here. You’re here with me. Calm the fuck down, please,” she said, her voice cracking as she tried to keep her composure.

Like a switch had been flipped, Alastair stopped struggling. Her bleary eyes locked onto Zaviya’s face, and recognition slowly dawned. Her trembling hands reached up to rub her eyes, as though trying to dispel an illusion.

“Zaviya… Misis ko…” Alastair whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She wrapped her arms around Zaviya’s waist, clinging to her as though she might vanish. “I miss you so much. Wag mo na akong iwanan, please. Patawarin mo na ako Zavi. Let's go back to the old us.”

Tears streamed down Alastair’s face as she looked up at Zaviya, her eyes filled with desperation. “Zavi, I didn’t do it. I can’t betray you like that. You’re the only woman that I love. I’m so sorry I keep things from you. I fooled and betrayed you to keep you close. I love you so much. That’s why I did it…”

Zaviya’s heart shattered at the sight of Alastair breaking down. She cradled her face gently, her thumb brushing away the tears. “Shhh, Alastair. Enough. You’re drunk. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay? I promise you,” she murmured, her voice soothing as she ran her fingers through Alastair’s short hair.

But Alastair suddenly pulled away, her tear-streaked face hardening into a mask of cold determination. She folded her arms across her chest, her gaze piercing.

“You tell me, Zaviya Porsild-Dee. Did you already move on from me?”

The question stunned Zaviya. “Alastair, what the—? Where are you coming from?” she asked, sitting beside her.

“You’re letting that motherfucker Irfan fetch you, eat lunch with you, hold you, give you flowers, and even hug you. I saw you having date with him in Singapore. All I wanna do is burn him alive." Alastair clench her fist almost turning white, the jealousy in her head is clouding her.

"Why? Siya na ba, Zavi? Ganoon ba ako kadaling palitan? Anong wala sa akin na mayroon siya? Hindi na ba ako ang mahal mo? Tell me so I could kill that mother fucker!” Alastair’s voice cracked like a child’s, but the pain in her eyes was undeniable.

Before Zaviya could respond, Alastair lunged forward, cornering her against the sofa. Her fingers traced the delicate curve of Zaviya’s neck, sliding down to the valley between her breasts before resting over her heart.

“You are mine, Porsild,” Alastair said, her voice low and venomous, each word a dagger piercing the air. “Your body, your soul, and your heart. No one gets to have you but me. You always belong to Alastair Michelle Marquez Dee.”

The intensity of Alastair’s gaze sent a shiver down Zaviya’s spine. Her breath hitched as she felt her resolve slipping, her body reacting to the proximity of the woman she loved. Right now, she felt like prey under the watchful eyes of a predator—and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to escape.

“Do you understand, misis ko?” Alastair demanded, her voice pulling Zaviya from her clouded thoughts.

Zaviya nodded vigorously, swallowing hard as she pushed Alastair back onto the sofa with trembling hands. She fanned herself, her cheeks burning, before handing Alastair a cold glass of water.

The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner. Zaviya sat on the edge of the couch, her breath shaky, her thoughts heavier than she'd like to admit. After a few deep breaths to calm herself, she turned her gaze to Alastair, sprawled on the couch, her eyes closed. The mess she'd been earlier—wasted, slurring, and barely coherent—was now a softened version of herself. The damp towel and glass of water Zaviya had forced on her seemed to have done the trick. She wasn’t entirely sober, but at least she wasn’t teetering on the edge of collapse anymore.

Zaviya let out a soft, frustrated sigh as she stood up, gathering the used towel and empty glass to take them back to the kitchen. When she returned, however, something held her in place. Her gaze wandered, almost reluctantly, tracing the sharp angles of Alastair’s face. It was a perfect blend of strength and softness, even in the muted light of the room. And despite the haze of alcohol clouding her mind, Alastair’s beauty still struck her with a force that left her breathless.

It was almost unfair, Zaviya thought bitterly, her chest tightening with an unfamiliar mix of longing and resentment. God had really outdone Himself with Alastair. But what stung even more was the memory of Singapore—the way Alastair must’ve seen her with Irfan, thinking she was toying with him. But no... that wasn’t it. Zaviya shook her head, the ache in her heart deepening. If it wasn’t Alastair, then no one else could ever have her. And that painful truth was the one thing she couldn't deny, no matter how much she tried.

Shaking herself free from the dangerous pull of her thoughts, she reached out and gently tapped Alastair’s shoulder. “Alastair, wake up. Let’s move to the bedroom so you’ll be comfortable,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Alastair stirred but didn’t open her eyes. She hummed in response, a low, sleepy sound that tugged at Zaviya’s heart. Determined to get her to bed, Zaviya leaned down, hooking her arm under Alastair’s shoulder to help her up. “Come on,” she murmured, dragging Alastair up with surprising gentleness.

The trek to the bedroom was slow and awkward, with Alastair’s weight leaning heavily against her. When they finally reached the bed, Zaviya eased her down onto the mattress. She crouched to remove Alastair’s socks, smiling faintly at how docile and childlike she looked, sitting there quietly, letting herself be cared for. It’s been so long since I’ve seen this side of her, Zaviya thought wistfully.

Her smile faded as she unbuttoned the sleeves of Alastair’s polo, the fabric damp with sweat and alcohol. She held her breath as she worked, her fingers trembling slightly when the shirt slid off to reveal Alastair’s toned abs and muscles. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. Even like this—disheveled, drunk, vulnerable—Alastair was stunning. Zaviya swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing with warmth. She was grateful, almost absurdly so, that Alastair had come to her door tonight. The thought of anyone else seeing her like this made Zaviya’s stomach churn.

Shaking her head, she turned and walked to her closet, searching for an oversized shirt. She couldn’t leave Alastair like that, in just her sports bra. When she returned, she found Alastair still sitting on the edge of the bed, her head tilted slightly as if she’d fallen back into a light doze. Zaviya stood between her legs, lifting one of Alastair’s arms to guide it through the sleeve. The scent of Alastair’s perfume, mixed with the faint tang of alcohol, enveloped her. It was intoxicating in a way that made Zaviya’s knees weak.

She was distracted, so much so that she didn’t notice Alastair move until it was too late. In one swift motion, Alastair’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her down onto her lap. Zaviya let out a tiny yelp, her hands bracing against Alastair’s shoulders. Her heart slammed against her chest as she froze, her face inches from Alastair’s. The warmth of Alastair’s breath ghosted across her cheek, her nose brushing lightly against Zaviya’s skin.

“Alastair...” Zaviya whispered, her voice trembling. She didn’t know if it was a plea or a warning.

Alastair didn’t respond, not with words. Instead, she nuzzled against Zaviya’s cheek, her touch featherlight, her fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles on Zaviya’s back. The sensation sent shivers down Zaviya’s spine, her body betraying her resolve. Her stomach churned, her head spun, and her heart raced. It wasn’t butterflies. It was the entire zoo.

When Alastair’s lips brushed against her neck, Zaviya whimpered softly, her hands tangling in Alastair’s short hair. Her grip on Alastair’s shoulders tightened, her body melting into the touch. When Alastair found the sensitive spot on her neck and suckled gently, Zaviya gasped, her breath catching. She bit down on her lip, stifling the moan threatening to escape.

“Alastair... ahh...” she managed, her voice barely audible. Her knees felt like they might give out, her body overwhelmed by the heat and the weight of the moment.

“I miss you so much, Zaviya,” Alastair murmured against her skin, her lips trailing down to Zaviya’s exposed collarbone. “I’m so lost without you.”

The words hit Zaviya harder than she expected. She froze again when Alastair pulled back, her dark eyes locking with Zaviya’s. There was a fire there, a raw, desperate need that was impossible to ignore.

“Zavi, please,” Alastair whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Stop me. Refrain me from touching you, from kissing you. I’m about to lose it, and I don’t want you to hate me for this tomorrow.”

Zaviya didn’t respond immediately. Her mind was a warzone, logic clashing violently with the overwhelming desire coursing through her veins. She knew they should stop, that they needed to talk, to sort through the mess between them. But her body had other ideas. It craved Alastair, and the thought of pulling away felt like suffocating.

With a trembling breath, Zaviya leaned in, closing the distance between them. Her lips met Alastair’s in a kiss that wasn’t urgent or frantic but deep and full of love. It was a kiss that spoke of everything she couldn’t put into words, a reminder of what they had been and what they still could be.

When they finally broke apart, gasping for air, their foreheads rested against each other. Alastair’s hand cupped Zaviya’s cheek, her thumb brushing gently against her skin. Zaviya’s fingers played with the short hairs at the nape of Alastair’s neck, her chest heaving with the weight of what they had just done—and what they might do next.

“Zavi...” Alastair’s voice broke the silence, rough and filled with an ache that made Zaviya’s chest tighten. Her dark eyes shimmered with unspoken fears, a vulnerability that Zaviya had never seen before—not in all the years of their rivalry, their banter, their fiery exchanges. “If you kiss me again...” Alastair swallowed hard, her voice dropping to a whisper that barely filled the space between them. “There’s no turning back. Please... stop me before we go any further.”

Zaviya stared at her, her heart breaking at the vulnerability in Alastair’s voice. Her words were a plea, raw and honest, and it cut through Zaviya like a knife. Alastair was always the strong one, the unyielding force that pushed against her own stubbornness. To see her like this, so open, so fragile—it broke something in Zaviya.

But stopping was impossible. Zaviya couldn’t. Not when every fiber of her being screamed for her to stay, to give in, to let this happen. The walls she had built around herself—walls she thought were unbreakable—crumbled in the face of Alastair’s touch, her words, her presence. How could she deny the pull she felt? How could she turn away from the one person who made her feel seen in ways no one else ever had?

“I can’t...” Zaviya’s voice cracked, her hands moving to cradle Alastair’s face. Her thumbs brushed over Alastair’s cheeks, where a hint of moisture glistened—tears, maybe, or the aftermath of their breathless closeness. “I can’t stop, Alastair. Not now. Not when it’s you.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with finality. And as Alastair closed her eyes, leaning into Zaviya’s touch, it was clear that neither of them could fight it any longer. Whatever boundaries had once existed between them were gone, swept away in the tide of emotions they could no longer control.

Zaviya kissed her again with a tenderness that spoke of everything she couldn’t put into words. Alastair responded in kind, her hands pulling Zaviya closer, erasing the space between them. The kiss deepened, becoming a conversation in itself—a language of love, longing, and the unspoken promises that neither dared to make out loud.

When they finally parted, their foreheads rested together again, breaths mingling, their hands clutching at each other as if afraid to let go. Alastair’s voice broke the silence again, hoarse and barely audible. “I’ve wanted this... wanted you... for so long. I miss you so much my Zaviya. But I was scared.”

Zaviya pressed a tender kiss to Alastair’s forehead, her fingers delicately tracing the sharp line of her jaw. Her voice was steady, even as her heart pounded fiercely against her ribs. “You don’t have to be scared anymore,” she whispered, her words carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken promises. “Not with me. I’m here, Alastair. No more running. I’m yours—always.”

The intensity of her declaration hung heavy in the air, a mixture of vulnerability and fierce devotion. Zaviya knew this wasn’t just an assurance; it was her everything laid bare.

Alastair’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze locking onto Zaviya’s with an urgency that made the moment feel infinite. She studied her wife’s face as though committing every detail to memory—the softness of her eyes, the curve of her lips, the way her cheeks flushed under the faint moonlight. “This isn’t just a moment, is it?” she murmured, her voice hoarse with disbelief. “Slap me or something. God, am I dreaming?”

Zaviya let out a soft laugh, the sound light but laced with emotion. “No, babe. This is real. We’re real.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she held her composure, her gaze unwavering as she continued. “It’s not just a moment. It’s us. Always.”

The moonlight streaming through the wide glass windows bathed the room in a silvery glow, softening the sharp edges of the world outside. Zaviya straddled Alastair’s lap, her legs wrapped loosely around her waist, as they shared the intimacy of the quiet night. The city lights flickered faintly in the distance, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling within the room.

Alastair’s hands rested on Zaviya’s waist, firm but gentle, as though grounding her in the here and now. For a rare moment, a genuine, unguarded smile graced Alastair’s lips—a smile so filled with love and raw vulnerability that it made Zaviya’s breath hitch. It had been far too long since she’d seen her wife smile like this, since Alastair had allowed herself to be this open.

Zaviya’s gaze softened, her fingers brushing against Alastair’s jawline, tracing it as though ensuring this wasn’t just another fleeting dream. Alastair leaned forward, her lips ghosting over Zaviya’s forehead in a kiss so tender it felt like a silent vow. She kissed her nose, her cheeks, and finally her lips. Zaviya melted into the kiss, her body molding against Alastair’s, their mouths moving in perfect sync. It wasn’t rushed—it was deliberate, a dance of passion and trust that spoke volumes without a single word.

When their lips finally parted, both women were breathless. But Alastair wasn’t finished. Her kisses trailed down to Zaviya’s neck, her lips hot and deliberate as they lingered against her skin. Zaviya gasped when Alastair nipped gently at the sensitive flesh, the sensation sending shivers racing down her spine. Her fingers tightened around Alastair’s broad shoulders, clutching her as though she were the only thing anchoring her to the moment.

Alastair pulled back just enough to meet Zaviya’s eyes, her dark gaze seeking permission, reassurance. There was no urgency, no rush—only reverence and the unspoken understanding of what they were sharing. Zaviya nodded, her trust evident in the way her hands framed Alastair’s face, steady and sure.

With careful hands, Alastair reached for the knot of Zaviya’s silk robe. Her fingers grazed the fabric as she untied it, letting it slip open to reveal Zaviya’s scarlet lingerie. The deep red fabric clung to her curves, accentuating her smooth, flawless skin and leaving Alastair momentarily speechless.

“You’re breathtaking,” Alastair whispered, her voice husky and reverent. The raw honesty in her words made Zaviya blush, the heat rushing to her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. She wanted to remember the way Alastair’s gaze lingered on her, as though she were the most precious thing in the world.

Alastair leaned in again, her lips finding Zaviya’s collarbone, then trailing down the curve of her chest. Her kisses were slow, deliberate, each one a promise etched onto Zaviya’s skin. Her hands roamed gently, exploring the dips and curves that had occupied her mind endlessly.

Zaviya’s breath hitched, her fingers threading through Alastair’s hair as she surrendered herself to the moment. There was no room for hesitation, no space for doubt—only the undeniable connection between them. Their love was palpable, woven into every kiss, every touch, every lingering gaze.

Moments later, Alastair kissed her lips again, this time with an urgency that burned like fire. She lifted Zaviya, still holding her close, and gently placed her in the center of the bed. Alastair followed, hovering above her, careful not to put too much weight on her, afraid she might hurt her. Even though she was still a little drunk, her body knew exactly where to go, tracing the curves of her wife’s body with practiced ease.

She kissed Zaviya’s lips again before moving to her neck, nipping and grazing, teasing the delicate skin with light bites that left a trail of marks to remember. Zaviya gasped softly as Alastair’s lips traveled down to her collarbone, each kiss sending shivers through her.

Zaviya’s breath hitched when she felt her nightgown rip. "Alastair, tsk, that's my favorite nightgown! Damn," she muttered, playfully slapping Alastair’s shoulder.

Alastair chuckled lowly, kissing her forehead before murmuring, "It's getting in my way, and I can buy you millions of them. Now let me continue, my love."

With that, Alastair’s lips moved lower, finding Zaviya’s hardened nipple. She nipped at it gently, then cupped the other breast, teasing her with tender touches. Zaviya arched her back at the sensation, her body responding to Alastair’s every move.

"Hmm... ahh, Alastair," Zaviya moaned softly, biting her lip to stifle the growing pleasure.

Alastair’s tongue was skilled, moving between each mound with the precision of someone who had memorized every inch of her wife’s body. Zaviya’s breaths grew heavier, each passing moment a deliciously slow buildup to something even more intense.

Slowly Alastair's kisses went southern. She kiss Zaviya's flat abdomen down to her navel. Her kisses stop at the top of her cloth center. Alastair looks at her while carefully removing the last fabric using her teeth. Zaviya growls at how Alastair looks so hot down there.

Not wanting to waste another minute, Alastair kiss Zaviya's inner thighs going up near her glistening core. She's teasing her avoiding to touch the part where it needed her the most.

"Ahh shit, Alastair please" Zaviya pleaded while clutching the bed sheets besides her.

"Please what babe? What do you want me to do?" Alastair asks her teasingly.

"Argghh stop teasing me please. Come on do me Alastair, do whatever you wanted." she said with her cheeks redden and closing her eyes out of frustrations.

Alastair chuckles then give what Zaviya wanted. She kiss her center and lap it with her skillful tongue. Zaviya moan loudly at the contact. The pleasure is undeniable. A little later Alastair insert one of her fingers in Zaviya's center while she continue to eat her earning moans and pulling of her hair.  Alastair did it until the build up went higher and the climax brought to Zaviya leaving her breathless and in ecstasy.

Alastair drank all her juices till the last drop. That sight makes Zaviya's knees weaken. Alastair carefully stand removes her sports bra, unbuckle her belt, and lowers her trousers leaving her only in black boxers.

Her arousal is clearly visible as it created a tent in her boxers. Zaviya gulps hard, once again she's gonna meet Alastair's not so little buddy.

With a subtle tease, Alastair slowly removes the last piece of her clothing with a sexy smirk on her lips. Her eyes never leaving Zaviya's. Her member sprang free that is slapped her lower abdomen. She carefully lay on top of her wife and kiss her once more.

"Are you sure about this, Zavi?" Alastair's voice was low, almost a whisper, as she caressed Zaviya's skin with a tenderness that seemed to melt the space between them. "You know you can stop me at any time. I won’t be mad."

Zaviya met her gaze with a smile, her hand reaching up to brush a lock of hair from Alastair’s forehead "Go on Alastair, no one is stopping you. Make love to me, own me like the first time, make me lose my mind with your burning desires. I'm yours like always."

With those words, Alastair leaned in and kissed her gently, as if reaffirming the unbreakable bond they shared. She took a breath, her heart racing in anticipation, before slowly guiding herself closer. She aligns her member to Zaviya's center and carefully enters her making Zaviya adjust on her size.

Zavi whimpers and bites her lips, Alastair is so big that she feels so stretch and full. Alastair peppers her with kisses diverting her attention.

A few moments later, Zaviya's touch was a silent invitation, urging Alastair to continue what they had started. The air between them was thick with the intensity of their connection, each touch, each movement bringing them closer. Alastair responded with a tenderness that matched Zaviya’s unspoken desires, her movements slow and deliberate, savoring every moment.

As time passed, they found a rhythm, a silent dance of give and take that spoke of their deep connection. Their bodies moved in sync, each movement an expression of the trust and love they had for each other. The room, once filled with the quiet of anticipation, was now alive with the sounds of their closeness—the gentle breaths, the soft murmur of their voices, and the shared rhythm of their hearts.

Alastair pushes Zaviya's leg up onto her shoulder, giving her more access, and pounds harder on her with the ideal angle and speed. Zaviya tightens her grasp on the bedsheets, and she starts moaning loudly. They're both lost, relying on their common warmth. A few more thrusts, and Alastair sensed Zaviya's near; her walls were squeezing her too tightly.

"Alastair love, make it faster and harder please, I'm about to cum, ahhh shit." Zaviya said her mind is clouded with the pleasure that Alastair is giving her.

Alastair oblige and continues to pump into her now faster and deeper. Few moments after, Zaviya's cum flows through Alastair's cock like fireworks in the night sky. Zavi reached her second climax of the night, her eyes rolling in the back and her moans reverberating through the walls.

Alastair slowed her pace as Zaviya is riding her orgasm. A few breaths after, with a single rapid move, she put Zaviya on fours and do her nownin dogstyle. Her movements get harder and faster as she feels the knot in her stomach tighten. She is hammering her in the back, yanking her hair not too hard, and giving Zaviya a French kiss.

"Ahh shit, fuck, Alastair you're hitting that spot. Ahh, shit I'm almost there againnnnnnn......" Zaviya hoarsely said her palms gripping the bedsheets tighter.

Zaviya came again as the pleasure is insurmountable making her legs shaking. Alastair held her firmly as she's continuing to pound on her. With a few more intense, quicker, and stronger pumps, Alastair came inside her, painting her walls with her hot and thick seeds.

Alastair rolls beside Zaviya, her breathing heavy. She kisses her temples and hugged her tightly. With regained strength, Alastair made Zaviya to sit on her still hard and pulsing member. "Ride me, babe," Alastair murmured softly.

Zavi didn't need to be reminded twice as she started moving up and down to Alastair's length. She looked up, biting her lips, and her sweat was shimmering and rolling down her body. To avoid muscle constraints tomorrow, Alastair meets her thrust while supporting her legs. They build a perfect rhythm that causes them to lose their inhibitions. After a few more thrusts, they came together, whispering their names.

Alastair's stamina is too high, so she carries Zaviya and walks to the wall. Zaviya’s back touches the cold wall, her legs are hold safely by Alastair innher arms as she aligned her pulsating cock on Zaviya’s wet and hot center. Alastair bangs her against the wall with great pace and rhythm. Zaviya felt as if she was drowning in pleasure, but she knew she needed more, which Alastair generously provided. With strong pumps and rapid movements, they quickly reach their climax, with Alastair holding her safely and Zaviya biting her shoulders.

Not content, yet, Alastair brought Zaviya  to the couch, this time opening her legs wider. Alastair enters and pounds her once more, eliciting gurutal groans from both of them. Their hearts rush as they work hard to achieve orgasms. With one last pump, both of them cry in pleasure and exchange "Iloveyou"s.

Alastair nestled her body against Zaviya's, her soft murmurs of love filling the quiet air. Slowly, her hands began to wander again, tracing the curves of her wife’s body. Zaviya, with a tired sigh, gently slapped her shoulder. "Alastair, please... enough," she said, her voice a mix of exhaustion and playful frustration. "I’m so tired and sore. If you do me again, I might pass out. Leave me some strength, I still want to walk tomorrow."

A low chuckle escaped Alastair as she looked down at her wife, her lips curling into a smile. Leaning in, she kissed Zaviya passionately, savoring the moment. With the little energy left in her, Alastair carefully lifted Zaviya, gently carrying her to the bed. They curled up together, their bodies entwined, as they drifted into a peaceful sleep, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

And in that moment, as they lost themselves in each other, nothing else mattered. Not their past, not their fears, not even the uncertainty of what would come next. They didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for now, they had this—this fragile, beautiful now where nothing else mattered but them.

This wasn’t just a night. It was everything—the past, the present, the future—all rolled into one unbreakable promise.

------------------------------Update. 🖤 Read at your own risks. ⚠️

#ABF43