The lost sunshine

Chapter 3

Sarwa's PoV

It had been almost two hours since Zeyan left, so I decided to call him.

"Where are you?!" I nagged as soon as he picked up. "If you don't want to buy them, don't — and don't you dare come back. I'll call Julian to—"

"No! I already bought some. I'm coming. Don't you dare call him," he interrupted.

"Okay, then I'll give you ten minutes." I hung up the phone and lay back on the sofa to wait.

Zeyan's PoV

Damn it. I had planned to come home late—late enough to avoid this. Besides, tomorrow was her birthday. She should’ve been with her family. But knowing her… she might even call Julian. She always finds a way to hit where it hurts.

When I stepped inside, I found her sprawled across the sofa, legs draped carelessly over the armrest, as if she hadn’t a single worry in the world. Not even the thought that I might lose control.

Did she really think I was a saint?

"Finally. I thought you got lost," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Sit properly," I muttered, setting the beer down, avoiding her gaze as my chest tightened.

She obeyed—barely—and we started drinking. It didn’t take long before her words began to blur.

"Hey… handsome," she murmured, leaning closer. "Do you know what tomorrow is? My birthday. And no one remembers." A faint laugh escaped her. "I guess I’m alone… but it’s fine. You’re here. So… will you keep me company tonight?"

"Don’t come any closer," I said quickly, my voice tighter than I intended. "You’ve had enough—"

"Shh…" Her finger pressed lightly against my lips. "You talk too much."

My breath hitched.

She was too close.

I told myself to stop her—to push her away—but my body refused to listen. When I moved, it was already too late. Her lips brushed mine, soft and uncertain at first, then lingering.

I pulled back, forcing distance between us. "This isn’t right," I muttered.

But she only smiled faintly, as if she hadn’t heard a word.

When I pushed her again, she slipped and fell off the sofa.

"A-are you okay?" I asked, startled, reaching out instinctively.

Before I could steady her, she pulled me down with her.

"I wasn’t wrong…" she whispered. "It felt nice."

I froze.

"Do you even know what you’re doing?" I snapped, my voice rough. "I’m not a saint, Sarwa."

Her response came in a quiet murmur against my skin. "I know."

That was worse.

I tried to end it—to put distance, to restore some sense of control. I carried her to the bathroom, turning on the shower, hoping the cold would bring her back to herself.

But the moment stretched instead of breaking.

Water traced down her hair, her face, her shoulders—and somehow, that only made everything harder to ignore.

I stepped back, but she didn’t let me.

"Stop," I warned, my voice low. "I won’t be able to hold back."

Her gaze met mine—clearer now, steadier than before.

"Then don’t."

That was the last fragile thread of restraint.

What followed wasn’t rushed—it was inevitable. A quiet surrender to something neither of us chose to stop.

Morning came too quickly.

"Goodnight… no—good morning," I said softly, brushing my lips against her forehead.

She shifted against me, half-asleep, her fingers curling lightly at my side. "Sleep," she murmured.

I held her closer without thinking.

And for a moment, everything felt still.