Chapter 3
544 Words
"The scent of old paper and floor polish filled the library, but all Zara could remember was his skin—the way it tasted like warmth and rain when she kissed him in secret between the rows of dusty encyclopedias.
She closed her eyes in the quiet, letting the past breathe.
It was the week before finals.
They were supposed to be studying. That was the plan.
But Kael had a habit of undoing plans with just one look.
“You’re not even reading,” he said, voice low and amused as he leaned over the back of her chair, his breath brushing her neck.
Zara’s skin broke into goosebumps.
She tilted her head slightly, not daring to look at him fully yet. “That’s because someone keeps breathing on me like he’s trying to start something.”
His laugh was soft and rough at the same time—dangerous.
“Maybe I am,” he whispered.
She turned to face him then, heart in her throat, lips parted—but he was already watching her like she was something sacred, something untouchable, and yet, his to touch.
The next few moments were a blur.
One glance. A nervous smile. And then she was being pulled between the stacks, past the shelves, into the shadows where no one went after dark.
The air was warm and still. Their breaths were louder than they should’ve been.
He pinned her gently against the wooden paneling, but there was nothing forceful in his touch—only reverence.
“You make me forget everything,” he said, eyes locked on her lips.
“Then forget.”
Their mouths met—slow, deliberate, and burning.
Kael kissed like he was trying to memorize her. Every pause, every pull, every sigh was etched into the shape of his lips on hers.
Her hands slid beneath his shirt, palms trailing over hard lines and the quick rhythm of his heartbeat.
Kael groaned softly, dipping his head to the curve of her neck, his teeth grazing skin before pressing a kiss just below her ear.
Zara’s breath hitched. She wanted him. All of him. Not just the kisses or the way he said her name—but the man behind the mischief, behind the smirk, behind the teasing wit that masked how deeply he felt.
She remembered how they ended up in his flat that night.
Books forgotten, clothes strewn along the floor.
He undressed her with slow hands and reverent eyes, as if her body was poetry he was reading for the first time.
Every touch was slow, worshipful.
Every whispered word between moans sounded like a promise.
“Stay,” he’d whispered against her shoulder, after. “Don’t go yet.”
And she hadn’t.
Because for the first time, Zara felt what it was like to be seen. To be desired not just for her body, but for her fire. For the way she challenged him, laughed at him, loved him without trying to change him.
The present stung as she opened her eyes.
That Kael—the man who begged her to stay—was drifting away now.
And no matter how many times she reached for him, all she grasped were memories like this.
Warm.
Beautiful.
But gone."
- Writer
