𝔇𝔞𝔴𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔇𝔲𝔰𝔨 (The Legacy Duet - 2)

Sub Rosa

𝕺n a sharp inhale, I opened my eyes to the dark ceiling above me in time to catch the slight shadows flickering across. Darkness gathered in patches over the floor and in the corners of the room, broken only by lighter shadows that bobbed and drifted. Beyond the window lay a bruised sky, the midnight hue gradually leaching to a lighter gray.

I immediately looked to my side to confirm two things. First, the previous five days hadn't all been a dream or a psychotic break. There lay the monster I'd once feared. The man I now craved. Seeing him, confirmed the first, but also my second, concern that the sudden movement hadn't woken him.

Sliding out of my bed, I made my way to the living room.

I ran a shaky hand across my brow. It was funny how the more I tried to grasp on to time, the faster it seemed to go by. It was like it was done on purpose because who were we to try to be the masters of time?

The world was cold, but it was also beautiful, lovely, and pure.

Grabbing a glass of water, I tip-toed towards the windows. The ocean wasn't visible from here, but I could picture the waves of the raging sea crashing into the shore.

How something so vast and untamed like the ocean came to a halt with the land.

It reminded me that no matter how volatile things could be, they came to an end sooner or later.

I knew the thoughts in my head were getting worse when my insomnia would flare, and now I was filled with dread. Right now, I sat at the dining table that overlooked the gardens, leg crossed at the knee and bounced uncontrollably.

Everything was alright.

Things were going great. These last days had been nothing less than a dream. So why was I feeling anxious? Shallow and shaky breaths sawed in and out of me, while I scanned over my surroundings. This was a warning sign.

I hadn't had an anxiety attack in weeks.

I could work and deliberately keep myself busy so my body would get so exhausted between no sleep and endless meetings, that it would lead to a mental crash. But I hated that. I hated feeling that way because it felt like I slept for days, that I'd lost precious time and I always woke up disoriented. The urge to break down tugged at the back of my eyes and I pushed it out, concentrating on each breath, as I'd done whenever anxiety struck me. Closing my eyes, I focused on every count, inhaling and exhaling, in and out, until the thrum in my veins slowed.

I had just taken a sip of water when Taimoor walked in. He wore his pajama bottoms, slung low on his hips, choosing to remain barefoot and bare-chested while we were here. Dressed like this, Taimoor exuded raw masculinity. My eyes trailed down his back as he made his way to my chair.

"Are you having trouble sleeping?" he said, and when I looked up at him, his eyes were on mine.

"Just woke up early," I said.