Semua Bab Blinded By Love: Bab 111 - Bab 120

Christian's POV I hate her. But somehow I hate myself more for still loving her. I hate how I still want her, and I hate even more the thought of another man having her. The image of the doctor's hand on her filled my chest with rage. She was mine. In every way possible, she was mine. Mine to torture, mine to punish, mine to hate. I wanted to break her. I wanted to watch her unravel beneath me until she knew, without a doubt, who she belonged to. My own torment, my own suffering, would be her punishment. But would it be enough? Would it ever be enough? I have never wanted anyone as much as he wanted her, but with every passing day, the love I thought I had for her had twisted into something darker. The same shade of dark I once felt for my lying father. He was the first and only lesson I need to understand how much a lie can destroy a life. He lied to my mother, he betrayed another woman. He would lie and leave us, his family, to be with someone else. A woman who probably just wa

Love's POVI think I understand Bash now better than ever. Being trapped in the dark was horrible. No wonder he felt the way he did. Even when I knew well that this would last only four weeks, walking around with my eyes bandaged up was hard. even harder than I imagined it would be.But one thing was good... as long as I couldn't see I wouldn't have to look at the hatred that grew inside Christian's eyes. This situation goes from bad to worse. The silence between us felt like it was splitting me in two. I could feel Christian beside me, his presence so tense, so tightly wound. I couldn’t see his face, but I didn’t need to. I could feel the sharp edge of his anger cutting through the air between us. The hatred I’d seen in his eyes before, that dark, simmering look, now felt like a constant companion. He didn’t even have to say anything. I could feel it in the way he handled me, the way he spoke, the way he didn’t speak.But I liked the fact we were back home. Perhaps that way I won't fe

Hearing the voices of people I love around me made me feel peace, so much so that I never wanted them to leave. In front of them, Christian was the man, the husband I always thought he would be. He was loving, kind, and caring. I never wanted it to end.But all that is good has its end, so did this.My friends were about to leave, at least Grace and Bash would be around. At least not until Christian makes us move again.Tamara and Bash were aside, talking. It is nice to hear that the friendship between them is blooming, hopefully into something bigger and better. Grace pulled Christian away to the office for a moment leaving me alone with Mira."Love, call me crazy but something here doesn't feel right. Are you sure you are as happy as you say you are?" I knew she would sense something, and despite promising Christian I would say anything I needed to let go with someone, and who better than Mira? I need someone on my side, someone to stand in my corner... make me feel less alone."Mira

He didn’t respond. Then, footsteps. Slow, deliberate. He moved closer, and my breath hitched in my throat even though I tried not to let it show. I turned my face slightly toward where I thought he was standing, listening for the soft rustle of his suit, the shift in the air. I didn't need my eyes to feel the gravity of him near me. "You wore a mask, every single day. Lied, to our faces... and you say it was for our own good. You are no better than the bastard I had for a father." His voice was closer now, a whisper laced with venom. "But I am not him." "Perhaps you are even worse. He at least didn't pretend to love us, at least not in the end." Christian says, anger blooming inside of him. "I love you, Christian. More than I ever thought was possible." I say trying to reach him but he pushes back at me, my back against the wall. "Shut up, you lie so well I might believe you for a second." “If I wanted to keep lying, I wouldn’t have told you the truth, I wouldn't still be here

A white sheet of paper and an artist's pen were somehow all I needed to feel free in the world. A dream I once had of making something beautiful that others would want, admire, and desire, was finally happening. Even if Christian may think this is a punishment for me, it was the opposite. I was designing jewelry again, I was telling a story, and this time, the story was mine. Each line I drew on the paper shimmered in my mind like gold catching sunlight. I sketched the delicate curve of a pendant, the kind that rests right over the heart, something soft, but powerful. The design was bold and unapologetic. Perhaps because I was starting to feel like there wasn't much I needed to apologize for. Maybe it is the Mira part in me, the one that tells me that my lie wasn't all that bad, that my lie in fact did a lot of good to a person who was at one point lost.I looked back down at the pendant. It had wings now, faint outlines spreading from the heart of the design. I didn’t remember adding