Lena Martins

Chapter Twenty Two

"They call us dreamers but we're the ones who don't sleep "

LENA'S POV

Tonight is the night of the party launch, and the pressure feels almost suffocating. The weight of expectation sits heavy on my shoulders, but in the midst of this storm, Adam, or Aaron as he's now known, has been my rock.

Adam has an uncanny ability to sense when I'm on the edge, when the stress threatens to consume me. He spent the entire day by my side, not trying to fix everything with empty words, but simply being there, a steady presence in the chaos. He listened to every worry, every doubt that crossed my mind, offering reassurance and understanding.

And when words weren't enough, he took to the kitchen, cooking whatever my heart desired, his way of nurturing and caring in the most practical manner

Zayn, on the other hand, carried a different kind of guilt. He felt as though he hadn't been there for me as much as he should have.  In an effort to make amends, he offered me some relaxtion . He had brought me to a room , and I was pleasently surprised to see that he had prepared the space with meticulous care, ensuring everything was perfect for the massage he was going to give me.

The air was filled with the subtle scent of lavender, a calming aroma that immediately began to ease my senses. I lay face down on the massage table, my body tense with the accumulated stress of the past days, every muscle knotted in anticipation of the night ahead.

Zayn's hands were warm and firm, his touch confident as he began to work on my shoulders. The initial contact was a shock to my system, a stark reminder of just how tense I had become. But as he continued, applying gentle but firm pressure, I could feel the walls I had built around myself starting to crumble. His movements were methodical, expertly navigating the landscape of my back, seeking out knots and tension with precision

There was a rhythm to his touch, a cadence that seemed to sync with my own breathing. I found myself sinking deeper into the table with each exhale, the stress and worry that had been my constant companions slowly fading into the background. Zayn's hands moved with purpose, gliding over my skin with an ease that belied the strength behind each motion. He found spots of tension I wasn't even aware of, coaxing my muscles into relaxation with a combination of pressure and gentle manipulation.

The sensation was almost euphoric, a profound sense of release that seemed to radiate from the very core of my being. It was as if Zayn's hands were speaking directly to my muscles, whispering words of comfort and reassurance, telling them it was okay to let go, to relax, to be at peace.

By the time Zayn's hands came to a rest, the transformation was complete. I lay there for a moment, basking in the afterglow, my muscles loose and relaxed, my mind clear and calm. It was a rare and precious gift, a moment of pure tranquility.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible, a testament to the depth of my relaxation

...

Standing in front of the mirror, I take a moment to absorb the reflection staring back at me. Tonight, I embody a different kind of strength, one that's bold and unapologetic.

My makeup is meticulously applied, designed to enhance my features rather than mask them. My eyes, framed by long, voluminous lashes, are highlighted with a smoky eyeshadow that adds depth and mystery. A hint of shimmer catches the light, lending a soft glow to my gaze, making it both inviting and impenetrable. My cheeks are dusted with a warm, subtle blush that brings life to my complexion, while my lips are coated in a rich, dark red, the color of ripe cherries.