ARYA’S POV
I walked out of the cinema building with the man I call my fiancé, sleepily finding stamina in his arms. I actually wasn’t sleepy, but what I had to do got me thinking so hard it weared me down.
“Careful.” He said when I slipped, supporting me by my waist. I think I held onto him for support, when he firmly held me from falling, wrongly because when my knife touched his abs, he held me tighter, not so much to hurt but strong enough to feel it's intensity.
He was silent. Breath stuttering like he was struggling to breathe on a snowy evening.
“Will you be okay?”
“You know I have to do this?” We said simultaneously. I didn’t want him to speak first. Normally, whoever did had the power of persuading the other. He paused, hugging me tightly. My head was pressed on his chest
