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."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Y O U N G | S U M M E R - Waves That Rolled You Under "Diving into waves over deeper waters; Fools from far away, close enough to fall in..."
—
"What's going on there?"
"Silence, Ephraim. She's asleep."
"No, I'm not." Romessa's cheeks warmed as she opened her eyes and gazed at her parents, who peered at her from the doorframe of the spare bedroom in their suite. The sun had gone down and the clock read eleven at night, which shocked Romessa. Have I really been asleep for that long? The last thing she truthfully remembered was being led back to the resort by Sahar, who instructed her to rest until she felt better. Romessa then cried herself to sleep, washed with anguish and exhaustion as well as the trauma of reliving what Robert had done to her years ago—it was no wonder she'd been asleep for so long, anxious to escape her reality.
"Ah, bon. Are you hungry? The dinner tonight was amazing, because I helped the chefs cook it. Oh, and what a sweet girl Bella is! It's a miracle—"
"Sahar," Ephraim rolled his eyes at his loquacious wife, who seemed to have already forgotten about the incident earlier—an incident she refused to explain to him—and why it was that their daughter lay in bed, barely able to hold a smile. Slowly, he turned to Romessa before speaking in Arabic. "You have a visitor, Romessa. Manuela's son is here to see you."
Romessa blushed, instantly propping herself up. She generally spoke in Arabic to her father, but her mother—who was actually born in Spain to Saudi Arabian parents—had grown up in a touristy part of Morocco that spoke French more often. "Hasanan. I'll speak to him."
She watched with shiny eyes as Ephraim went and retrieved Marco, the German then entering the room with his hands glued to his sides, clearly attempting to conduct himself in a reserved manner in the presence of her parents. Though Ephraim gave the couple their space, Sahar nosily remained; it wasn't until Romessa blushed and timidly spoke that she walked off. "Un peu d'intimité, please?"
"D'accord. Alright, I'll be in the living room." Sahar shot Marco a skeptical glance before standing and strutting off, flipping her thick hair around—a habit of Romessa's, which Marco could now understand where she'd gotten it from—before he motioned to the door.
"Should I close it?"
"Sure," whispered Romessa, watching as Marco closed the door. "Maybe you should lock it, too."
Marco caught his breath in his throat before smiling softly and shaking his head. "Your mother might kill me if she discovers we were in here behind a locked door."
"She's not as scary as she seems, I promise."
Marco moved to sit next to Romessa, peering down at her with such observance that his eyebrows were knitted in focus. "Seeing you in her arms..." his voice drifted off. "It reminded me of how badly I've always wanted to keep you safe," he murmured, tracing her soft lips with his fingers. "And in that moment, my anger scared you. I was doing the opposite of what I perceive as my duty—to make you happy, and to protect you. I'm sorry," he spoke, his voice soft. "Can you forgive me?"
