Page 42 of Rafi

But the way she trembles tells me the dream she had was far too real. Too distressing.

The pain in her voice twists something inside me. Tayana isn’t just haunted by her own trauma—she carries the weight of others’ suffering, too.

I hold her tight, letting her know she isn’t alone. Her breaths gradually even out, the trembling subsiding as exhaustion takes over.

But I can’t sleep. Not with her so close, her warmth seeping into me as she finally relaxes. And not with the growing realization that Tayana isn’t just someone I want to protect. She is someone I want toknow. Someone I want to possess. Every last inch of her.

Her resilience draws me in like a flame, but it’s her vulnerability, the one she keeps hidden behind a sky high wall, that keeps me looking to her for more. She is a contradiction of sorts, fighting battles no one should have to face, yet crumbling in the quiet hours when no one is watching.

By the time her breathing settles into the soft rhythm of sleep, I’ve made up my mind. Tayana might think she is better off alone in this fight, but she’s not.

Not when she has this fighter by her side.

Her breathing softens against my chest, but my thoughts churn like a storm. I can’t ignore the pull she has over me, like gravity drawing me closer with every passing moment. Tayana is a puzzle, her jagged edges fitting together in ways that don’t make any sense yet, but I know the picture they form would be worth waiting for.

I’ve never been one to rush into things. My brothers might joke about my patience bordering on stubbornness, but right now, that patience feels like my greatest strength. Tayana isn’t someone you push; she is someone you wait for.

As I sit here, holding her like she might disappear if I let go, fragments of her story begin to surface in my mind. Little things she’s said or done since we met, hints of a life that has been anything but easy.

I remember the way her hands trembled when we first talked about Igor Aslanov, how she’d clenched them into fists like she could crush the fear before it consumed her. The way her voice hardened when she mentioned the girls she’d tried to save, as if she blamed herself for not doing more.

I want to know everything. The good, the bad, the things that keep her up at night and the dreams she dares to chase. But more than that, I want to give her a reason to laugh without bitterness, to see the world without the weight of her past dragging her down.

She stirs against me, mumbling something I don’t quite catch. I brush a strand of hair from her face, careful not to wake her. Even in sleep, there is a tension in her expression, as if she can’t fully let go.

What has she been through?

I’ve pieced together enough to know that her fight against human trafficking isn’t just a cause—it’s personal. Her anger burns too hot, her drive too relentless for it to be anything else. Somewhere along the way, this fight has become her identity, and I can’t help but wonder what it has cost her.

Her family, maybe. Friends. A chance at a normal life.

“Who hurt you, Tayana?” I whisper, the words swallowed by the quiet room. “And why won’t you let anyone in?”

But even as I ask the question, I realize I already know the answer. Tayana is a fortress, her walls built high and thick to keep the pain out—or maybe to keep it in. Either way, she doesn’t let anyone past them lightly.

Yet here she is, in my arms, trusting me in a way that feels as fragile as it is significant. I’m not going to take that trust lightly.

For the first time in a long while, I feel something stir in me—something I’ve never allowed myself to feel. It’s not just attraction, though God knows Tayana is beautiful in a way that makes it hard to look away. It’s deeper than that, more complicated.

It is a need to protect her, to understand her, to be the one she turns to when the world feels like it is closing in on her.

Tayana shifts again, and her face presses against my chest. I can feel the faint dampness of tears she hasn’t yet wiped away, and my heart aches for her.

“Whatever you’ve been through,” I murmur, “you’re not alone anymore. Not with me by your side.”

I let myself imagine a future where she isn’t just someone I am protecting, but someone I am building a life with. It’s a dangerous thought, and it’s one that comes out of left field—one that comes with its own set of risks. But looking down at her now, I realize it’s a risk I’m willing to take.

Tayana’s past may have shaped her, but it doesn’t define her. And if she lets me, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to her.

I sitin the chair beside her bed, my elbows resting on my knees, hands clasped together as I try to make sense of the whirlwind Tayana has brought into my life. The faint light from the side lamp spills across the room, casting long shadows across her peaceful face.

Her breathing shifts, a subtle change that draws my attention. Her lashes flutter, and her eyes slowly open, unfocused at first. She blinks against the dim light, stretching with a languid grace that makes me look away, suddenly hyper-aware of how intimate this moment feels.

Her gaze sweeps the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. Then her eyes land on me, and her movements still.

For a second, neither of us speaks. I feel her study me, her expression caught somewhere between surprise and wariness. It isn’t the first time I’ve seen that guarded look, but this time it feels more fragile, like it might crack under the weight of one word too many.

“Morning,” I say, keeping my voice low.

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