Keyvan fumbled in his pocket. Then he held out his hand
and uncurled his fingers: a diamond ring. “Layla, will you marry
me?”
I loved this man and of course I would marry him. I
longed to be with him always, as his wife, and I would find a way to tell my
family; in time, they would accept it, they would have no choice.
“Yes,” I said, finding my voice. “Yes, I
will.”
Moonlight slanted through the curtains and trailed pearl
fingers across the floor. I rested my head on his shoulder and watched his
chest rise and fall. He was paler in the winter, almost white in places. I
held my hand up to the light and the diamond sparkled.
I would be a married woman soon, with a husband and a
home of my own, and one day, there would be children. I could see it: a cosy
house with a fireplace a
