Semua Bab Seduced by His Touch: Bab 121 - Bab 130

Soft light from the streetlight filtered through the thin curtains, casting long, golden beams across the living room. The cushions beneath Alex and Liana were still warm from their conversation, the air heavy with unspoken confessions. Liana's breathing eased into a gentle rhythm against Alex's chest, her hair spreading across his sleeve like a dark promise. His fingertips traced the line of her jaw, memorizing every gentle contour that hinted at the vulnerability beneath her brave facade. The world beyond slumbered, but inside, their silent vigil appeared to hum with possibility."You don't have to say anything," Alex whispered, his voice low, guarded. "I just want you here.".Liana stepped closer, arms circling his waist. She could scent the faint bitter tang of morning coffee on his mouth—a testament to endless hours awake, wrestling with her fear. "I'm scared," she breathed, opening her eyes to his. Her pupils, dark and glittering, were a whirlpool of remembrance: loss, grief, an

Liana awoke to the sunlight filtering through the alabaster curtains, painting the walls of the spacious bedroom in stripes of gold. Her nineteenth birthday had arrived in quiet splendor, and even the roses set in the silver vase on her nightstand seemed to lean toward the light in celebration. She lay for a moment, listening to the subtle hum of the house: the distant clink of crystal glasses being set in the dining hall, the muted whisper of servants setting floral garlands on the stairs, and beneath it all, a steady thrum of anticipation.Slipping from beneath the ivory sheets, Liana padded to the window, toes skimming the cool marble floor. Outside, the courtyard had been transformed overnight: pearled linens on the tables, bunches of peony and lavender flowers tangled in wrought-iron chairs, lanterns suspended from the ancient oak, their glass coverings sparkling like fireflies captured. Guests would arrive at noon—family, near friends, and mentors from the foundation—but for now

Morning light streamed through colored-glass windows in the foyer of the Hart estate, creating rainbows on the marble floor. Liana stood next to the towering oak door, hand on the brass doorknob that had been warmed by a thousand of her mother's hands. Behind her, each portrait of ancestors, every molded strip under the ceiling, whispered history. She found one white rose on a small table next to her trunks—a dawn gift of Alex wrapped in silken tissue paper. She breathed the combined scents of lavender and varnished wood as she closed her eyes, observing every small thing.Before she left the estate, Liana had slipped into her childhood bedroom again, where the wallpaper still had the old design of golden lilies. She stood beside her old dresser, runes of her own childlike script under a few mirror scratches. Her beloved hand-me-down porcelain doll stood leaning on the windowsill, dress sun-faded from years of sunlight. Liana picked it up, held it for a moment, and put it back as if s

Sunbeams streamed down the high ceilings of the convocation hall through the tall windows, bathing its polished oak benches in a warm golden light. Tiers of graduating students, radiant in midnight-blue gowns and tasselled silver mortarboards, sat in stifled anticipation. Liana's heart pounded wildly like a caged bird when she smoothed out her gown, fingernails brushing the university seal embossed on her programme. Today she would stride across this stage proudly—Latin honors whispered on invitations, welcome messages, and all-nighters spent reading. But beneath all her pride a river of feeling ran: memories' pain, the absence of her mother's hand on her shoulder, and the knowledge that Ruth's presence haunted every still corner of this auditorium.Alex stood at the back, his lanky frame unwavering amidst the swirling tide of family and friends. He had driven down the night before, trading business meetings for a beach weekend, all for the privilege of witnessing this moment. His cha

Liana woke to the ever‐present hum of morning traffic filtering through her apartment building's floor‐to‐ceiling windows. Glass skyscrapers glimmered in the predawn light: sentinels stabbing the sky in a troubled world. She stretched, letting the familiar pounding pain of a morning after late‐night planning sessions seep into memory. Twenty years old, Liana Coleman had built a life forged by purpose. Her social enterprise—BrightPath Collaborations—had grown from an embryonic idea into a successful network of artisan cooperatives and survivor mentorship programs on three continents. Daily, there were fresh requests: online meetings with Accra-based partners, sustainability packaging design revisions, negotiations to reduce carbon signatures with shipping partners. But beneath the whirlwind activity, she felt grounded in the knowledge that each decision was affecting real people's lives.She padded across the living room to her computer, where Skype's gentle glow awaited. The screen di