Reyna Feldman, a twenty year old Jewish girl from the tiniest of villages in France, is on the run. Captured by German soldiers while trying to escape over the border, she's taken to an internment camp in Freiburg, Germany, where she meets SS Philli...
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Happy Monday! Long winded(ish) author note ahead...
I've been trying to get this chapter finished for the last four days, but have been failing to find the right words until today. ***(TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter discusses the trauma and fallout experienced after SA. If this is a sensitive topic for you, please read with caution.)***
Because of this, I really wanted to take my time while writing this chapter. I've said it before, this story is a bit darker than ones I've written previously, and I won't sugarcoat the darker bits when they come up. This story is first and foremost a romance. With that being said, telling a love story while also contextualizing and painting a realistic picture of the trauma a character has experienced is a very fine line. Anyway... Long story short, if you ever find yourself wondering why Reyna's past traumas are continuously brought up, it's because life is nuanced and isn't linear. We don't move on from the things that happen to us in the span of "five chapters", so I wouldn't expect our girlie Reyna to either. :)
"So how do you like it so far?" Phillip's question pulled Reyna from the copy of Northanger Abbey she'd been reading since the previous night. It had been his latest recommendation, and although it was a bit different from the other Jane Austen works she'd read, he'd been sure she'd love it all the same.
She tilted the book down from where she'd been propping it up on her chest, and drew her eyes up to where he sat at the opposite end of the sofa she was lying on, her stockinged feet propped in his lap.
"I like it," She smiled. "Henry reminds me of you."
"Oh?" He quirked a brow, closing the book he'd had resting on her legs. Sitting it down on the side table, he propped an elbow on the back of the sofa.
She nodded. "You're both very perceptive."
"And here I thought you were going to say it was my dashing good looks," He smirked.
Returning his smirk, she sat up, pulling her feet from his lap and tucking them underneath her. Leaning in until their noses were nearly touching, her smirk widened into a full on grin. "That too."
He glanced from her eyes to her lips, and then back up. She stared back, her heart skipping a beat at the way he was looking at her ... she'd never grow tired of that look.
Leaning in, he pressed his lips against her's in a fleeting kiss, pulling away just enough to look at her again, his lips still brushing against her's as he did.
Her heart skipped another beat as his eyes met her's. He was gazing at her with that same heated look in his eye from before. The same one that had set butterflies loose in her stomach every night for the last two weeks. It had become routine - the same song and dance each night. Phillip would finish up any paperwork he had while she read, eventually joining her with his own book. They'd traded in their usual armchairs, now opting for the sofa that sat to the right of the fireplace. Together they'd sit and read until one of them inevitably broke the silence - usually with an innocent enough question about the book the other was reading. That question was followed up with an answer that had the subtlest hint of flirtation laced through it. And that was all it took - that unspoken invitation that always left the books they'd been reading minutes before lying haphazardly on the side table.
