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25. Zayne
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His Kind Of Woman 26. Zayne
I stand in front of Helbert's grave with my head down low and my heart sinking to the ground. The weight of my grief feels heavy, almost suffocating, but I don't cry. No tear falls down my eyes but it's all eating me inside. The guilt, the pain, the weight of losing him... everything is reminding me that the tomorrow I thought I'd have never came and will never do. The memories of our time together come flooding back. The laughter, the joy, and everything we shared seems like distant echoes in a place where happiness cannot penetrate. I find myself asking why him, why now, why me? But there are no answers to these questions, no solace in the silence of the graveyard. And the emptiness in my chest feels like a gaping hole that can never be filled. Myla and Keith stand beside me, her head on his chest as she cries. I want to tell her that it's not her fault because I know she feels as guilty as I do, but my mind is consumed by memories of Helbert, memories of a life that once was, an
His Kind Of Woman 27. Myla
I've never thought Zayne would ever do something like this. I stare at him with wide eyes as he holds eye contact, his gaze piercing holes through me. No, this isn't happening. I don't pay attention to the meeting. Zayne does most of the talking and I just sit there, people stealing glances at me while I try to pull myself out of my thoughts. I can't believe him. I can't believe anything that's happening around me. Everything is fucked up. "Myla." When the meeting is done and everyone is gone, he approaches me, his steps hesitant yet his tone determined. "I can explain-" "What will you even explain? The way we became married all of a sudden? Or the way I'll have to pretend to be your wife from now on?" I stand up, my fists tight. "Just tell me, Zayne, am I a fucking joke to you?" I watch while he runs his fingers through his hair and sighs heavily. I should be annoyed. I should be mad. I should be frustrated. Yet all I am is hurt. "I had to. You're the only one who- you're the on
His Kind Of Woman 28. Zayne
"Sorry, I took a while." Myla's mother walks to me with a cup of tea in her hand. "I thought this would make you relax." I see my mother in her. She's got her eyes, that soft motherly look that makes me want to just hug her and close my eyes. "Thank you. I appreciate it." I take the cup from her, the warm steam and comforting aroma immediately making me feel more at ease. We're sitting in the living room while Myla packs her things. We figured she should stay at my place for some time while we complete the marriage process. "Myla talked to me about your marriage." She says and I look at her, noticing the ghost of a smile that crosses her face. "I always dreamt about when she gets married, but the moment it happens, it's a fake one." Fuck. Guilt rushes through me as she looks a time with sad eyes. I feel torn. I know that this marriage is based on ulterior motives, and the guilt of using her for my own gain weighs heavily on me. But I genuinely care for her and want to make her happ
His Kind Of Woman 29. Zayne
"Zayne." She calls my name, her lips against mine, and I smile. A gasp leaves her mouth when I put her legs around my waist and hold her ass, making her look at me. I lean in and kiss her again, and she moans softly against my mouth, making my cock jolt with desire.My mind is clouded by her moans and soft breaths and it takes just a moment before I'm completely lost in her the intoxicating scent of her skin and the taste of her lips, my hands running up and down her back."Jesus Christ, Myla, I want you." I breathe against her skin, making my way to my room before I put her on the bed, my hands exploring her body that I memorized every inch of. The shirt and pants she's wearing are quickly discarded, leaving her naked and exposed to my hungry gaze. Her breathing becomes ragged as my lips trace down her neck, leaving soft kisses along the way. I feel her hands running through my hair, pulling me closer to her, urging me to keep going.Pretty girl, we're in for a long night.She arches
His Kind Of Woman 30. Myla
His arm around me feels like a warm blanket as I close my eyes and drown in his scent. In his presence. In his embrace. In his love.My gaze darts to my hand, where the ring sits on my finger. It's a beautiful one, I wonder if he chose it himself. I mean, he's Zayne Laurier, he probably had someone pick it up for him because of how busy he is. Nevertheless, it fits me just right. I can see a little bit of me in its form. It's crazy how I'm trusting him with myself and my life, but I would never choose otherwise. It's not just the physical attraction, although that's definitely there, it's the way he makes me feel. I know that with him, I'm safe.When I look up at him, he's sleeping like a child. I can't help but smile at the sight of him. His features are so peaceful when he's asleep. His usually intense gaze is now replaced by a calm and serene expression. His chest rises and falls rhythmically with each breath he takes, and I can feel the warmth emanating from his body.I don't rea
His Kind Of Woman 31. Myla
The car ride passes in a blur, and soon we arrive at the courthouse. The ceremony is simple, just as Zayne had planned. Mom and Keith stand as witnesses, their presence a reassurance that I'm not alone on such a day. Vows are exchanged, promises are made and rings are placed on our fingers. He stands by my side, not whole, just half because only a part of him is not afraid of what's happening. His other part is still wondering if he could love again and I feel it in his gaze, touch, and presence. But I hold his hand tightly and intertwine our fingers, offering him a silent promise that I'll be there when he needs someone to hold. Someone to show him that he's not broken. As the officiant pronounces us husband and wife, there's a collective cheer from Mom, Keith, and even a few strangers who happened to witness our small ceremony. Their cheers mingle with the sound of my racing heartbeat when Zayne leans in and kisses my lips. This is not our first kiss nor our last, but it's differ
His Kind Of Woman 32. Zayne
I've made thinking about her an art form. I've had plenty of time to practice and perfect my craft in the years we've been together: I paint her profile into the swirling maze - like shapes that draw themselves on the backs of my eyelids when I shut them tight. I compose music that sounds like the blue of her eyes, so deep and mesmerizing that looking into them can feel like drowning. I've written odes to her lips, hymns to her hands, an elegy to the feel of her leaving my bed, the loss of that warmth. I think about her intentionally, when things are slow at work and I'm bored out of my mind. I think about her idly, when I'm in the car, headed back home where I continue missing her. I think about her when she's next to me, and when she's not. I think about her when I'm in the shower and when I don't fall asleep.I think about her as the woman I wanted so much, the first time we met, and as the stubborn, gentle soul that touched my heart, the second time we met, properly met. Our enco
His Kind Of Woman 33. Zayne
My mind goes back to the years I spent in the orphanage, way before I met Helbert. It all started after I got back home from my mother's funeral and my father threw her favorite vase at me. People said his pain turned into something ugly, but the truth was, it had always been there, lurking beneath the surface, poisoning our home. I wonder what would have happened if I didn't run away that night. The mere thought sends a shiver down my spine. I never saw him since that night, but the pain, the fear, the trauma... it's all here. And sometimes, I believe it's the price I had to pay for running away. Sometimes I believe that if I didn't leave, everything would have been okay. I would have met my mother again and avoided all the heartbreak I had to go through. I remember the cold walls and unfamiliar faces, the sense of abandonment that seemed to linger in every corner. It was a world entirely different from what I had known, a place where the echoes of my past were drowned out by the c
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