bound; governed by fate or extremely likely to occur.
"Face it, Marco. You and I are bound to one another. Even after all this time, even despite the consequences of our love, you can't keep yourself away from me-and neither can I."
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M E D U Z A - Lose Control "Why do I feel like I'm falling, When I'm nowhere near the edge?"
—
"Are you back yet?"
"I landed hours ago, William."
"Good," Romessa's boyfriend—who she hadn't talked to in a matter of days—spoke. "There's something I want to talk to you about. Why don't you come to my place?"
Romessa felt her heart pound in her chest. And it wasn't because she was nervous or anxious, as one might expect after having been unfaithful during a weekend away from their significant other—it was because she was giddy. It'd been five hours since she'd returned to Dortmund, and the moment she and Marco parted ways, all she could think about was one person: William.
She didn't know how or why he'd crept his way into her mind, particularly in such a pleasant manner. Perhaps—well, more like definitely—it was because she hadn't seen or spoken to him in days. Those days away from him had allowed her to forget about his bad qualities, and think about the good ones—like how his husky voice sent shivers down her spine, or how tightly he held her when they'd sleep next to one another. "Okay," responded Romessa, without hesitation. "I'll be there within the hour."
When she arrived to William's house, she was greeted with a ridiculously romantic display; rose petals carefully lined the hallways in a detailed path. With a small smile on her face, she followed them, entering the dining room at last before she stared at William, who held a golden box in his hands. "Oh, William!" she approached the Austrian, wrapping her arms around his robust frame before standing on her tiptoes in order to press her lips to his. "Did you really miss me this much?"
William grinned. "Of course I did. Here," he spoke, pressing the gold box in her hands. "Open it."
Romessa opened the box and drew in a breath of wonder, only to let it out in a surprised gasp. "William, are you—"
"I'm not proposing," assured the Austrian, with a remarkably bright the smile on his face. "But it's an intention."
An intention? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Romessa bit her lip, slipping the large and shiny diamond ring on her right index finger before holding it up. "It's beautiful," she declared, gazing at her hand. "What's the occasion?"
"The occasion is that I love you," responded William, placing his hands on her hips. Romessa blinked, then smiled. They'd said I love you to one another several times now—but Romessa knew that she didn't really love William, not in the kind of way he wanted. He pressed his forehead to hers, then motioned to the mahogany table a few feet away. "I made us dinner. Let's talk."
