In Love With The Devil ✔ [ONGOING]

Chapter 27- 'To be Tasted'

IAN KINGSLEY

If home was a person, it'll be her.

I opened my eyes as the sunlight found its way through the window and onto my face. It didn't take me long enough to realise that my wife was laying beside me, her soft and slow breaths giving a comfort to my heart.

She slightly shifted in her sleep and it was when I finally saw her sleeping face. A smile crept onto my face as I observed how her eyes remained slightly open as she slept, and her lips parted away and her hair all messed up.

My eyes lingered at her soft lips, so kissable. Her soft cheeks, I wanted to pinch them so bad.

"Stop staring at me, Ian." she moved in her sleep and opened her eyes, smiling slyly at me while untangling herself from my body.

God, she might think I'm a freak to stare at her like that.

I don't care though.

She's my wife after all.

God, what's happening to me?

It's good to find her smiling after a whole damn week. She got up from the bed and went to the bathroom. After a while, I too left her room with a unknowning smile onto my lips.

.

.

"Ian. Why are you staring at her picture for like, an entire hour straight? She's your wife bro, you have her all to yourself." James said wiggling his eyebrows at me.

"Fu- oh sorry sorry."

"Yo what the fuck? You stopped yourself from cursing? Are you okay? Do you have a fever?" James looked at me in a mocking tone, disbelief and mischief gleamed in his eyes and I couldn't help but bite back a smile. He's such a weirdo, but he's my best friend.

"Yeah. Amy told me not to." I whispered and sighed.

"Someone's in love." James danced and chuckled. Love. My heartbeat fastened at the mention of this. It can't be love, right? I'm not meant to be loved by anyone, nor to love anyone. Why, you ask? I don't know.

Probably because I've seen how weak love makes you, how it breaks you, the thought of losing them haunts you, and when they leave, it leaves you shattered, into pieces you could never join together back again. I've seen. I've seen it all. In my mother's eyes. The fear, the terror, the haunted feeling of losing her husband to an unfortunate death.

Death.

Actually, a murder.

The pain in my mother's eyes when she looked at her husband's corpse, knowing that there's someone out there roaming freely who killed him, broke her. I don't talk about it often. But I think about it all the time.

Anger started building up inside me at the sour memory and at thought of the killer. I'll go to hell and even beyond that to find his killer. I'll make sure that he dies the same way my father did. I'll make sure his family also feels the same pain that I did. But before that, I'll make sure not to love anyone at all. I don't want to feel broken and shattered because of a person. I can't afford to be weak.

Crack.

Blood. Blood poured out through my fingers as the glass I held in my hands now laid shattered, broken into pieces.

"Fuck." James muttered under his breath and rushed to me, calling for my assistant to bring the first aid box.

I sighed as he removed the pieces and covered my wounds.