Eternal Temptation

❥ 37| midnight wishes

I WAS SHIVERING.

Shivering head-to-toe with how cold I was, every inch of me soaking wet from the rain. I scoffed as I stepped into the lift, pressing my floor number and turning to the mirror to face my reflection. I looked like how any other person would look drenched, but to me, it felt like I had just survived an earthquake. One where guilt ate at every inch of my body and for some reason, I didn't know how to face Zayaan because of that, but somehow he was also the only person I wanted to be around at the moment. It made me feel crazy; I had no reason to feel guilty yet I couldn't stop.

I got off the lift when it opened, walking towards the end of the corridor. I pushed my key into the lock, but it refused to budge. After multiple continuous efforts full of struggle to unlock the door to our flat, it fell open, instantly immersing me in the scent of vanilla.

My eyes decided to threaten me again with waterworks as I looked around to see the that candle I'd reluctantly blown out when leaving with Zayaan was lit up now. The lights weren't on and the candle on the coffee table was the only thing giving the room some semblance of light.

He'd lit the candle up again. I blinked, feeling stupidly sensitive for being touched by this.

I stepped inside further, shutting the door behind me, and looked around the empty living room. Zayaan wasn't in there and I was about to call out his name when his bedroom door opened and he stepped out.

"Hey. You're back." He gave me a welcoming smile which quickly dropped at the sight of me. "Faithe, you're soaking wet. Come inside; you'll get sick if you continue to stand there like that."

I really couldn't deal with his concern right now. It felt like I had betrayed him by letting Logan touch me and I nodded, stepping past him. "Yeah."

He walked closer, but worried that he'd question my red-rimmed eyes, I pushed open my door and unintentionally slammed the door in his face.

He still knocked. "Faithe, are you okay?"

"Yeah." My voice was hoarse. "I'm fine."

He was silent, but I still felt his presence behind the door. "Make sure you dry your hair."

I pressed my burning forehead against the cold mirror, hearing him move away. "I will."

I wanted to cry again for some reason, and I knew I was most probably was going to end up sick the next day. Instead of dreading over that, I peeled the wet clothes off my body, looking for my pyjamas that would be much more comfortable against my burning skin, which was a result of both the rain and my shame. Unfortunately for me, as soft as cotton was, it felt rough against my palms when I unfolded the shirt. I put it back into the cupboard with a sigh, instead pulling out one of the silk camisoles that I rarely wore and its matching shorts.

They were loose enough to not cling to my body, but still pretty revealing, even without any lace. I never wore anything that showed so much skin in front of other people, but I couldn't really bring myself to care about that right now. Whatever. It was only my husband out there anyway.