Secrets of Us A Forbidden Love Romance (Alina) novel Chapter 214

Five Days to Go

The car door is heavier than I expect. Like a metaphor for the way my heart feels, how my

feet feel as I lift them with every step.

I sit down and the door closes with a loud thunk. At this point, all I can hear is the steady

beat of my heart in my ears. Pounding.

Zaid doesn’t look at me. He’s facing the window, his breath heavy, like he’s struggling with his own control. His eyes watch the houses, his lips moving like he’s chewing on

them.

I click my seatbelt into place, the sound loud in the quiet. My thoat feels thick, dry and I

wonder if I’m even going to be able to talk.

He still won’t look at me. His hands are on his lap, clenched and still.

So I decide to break the silence, my soul still sore from the barrage of feelings his words

caused. “How’d you know I wanted to go somewhere green?”

That gets him.

He turns, slowly, and when his eyes meet mine, those dark, beautiful eyes that I haven’t let myself stare into the past couple of days, I feel it like a hit to the chest. His frown pulls slightly deeper, confusion settling across his features.

I look down, swallowing the heat rising in my throat. “I overheard some of your

conversation with Jake.”

His eyes widen, nostrils flaring like he’s about to say something.

I shake my head quickly, giving him an out. “It wasn’t much. I just heard you say you were

going to find a place I liked. Somewhere green.”

His shoulders relax a little. I watch as he looks away and shrugs. “You always say it’s too

dry here. That you miss the green in Florida.”

I smile and nod as I glance down at my lap. “Yeah, green sounds nice.”

Without a word, he picks up his phone and hands it to me.

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Five Days to Go

I glance at him, confused, but he jerks his chin toward the screen. I unlock it and gasp. He has a website pulled up, a dozen listings saved to his favorites. Beautiful homes. Trees everywhere. Water nearby. Space. Quiet. Nature.

And every single one of them is in Virginia.

The air leaves my lungs.

“Zaid,” I whisper, blinking hard as my throat tightens. I look at him, the tears already slipping past my lashes. “How did you know I wanted to go to Virginia?”

His eyes soften immediately. Something shifts in his face, like he’s in pain. Like he can’t breathe. Like he wants to run as much as I do. His hand twitches on his lap like he wants to reach for me, and I feel my whole body lean an inch in his direction, like instinct.

He watches me like he’s drinking me, breathing me in. Then, barely above a whisper, he says, “I listen to you, even when you think no one’s listening.”

I look away, trying to breathe around the knot in my chest. But it doesn’t ease. Because he’s here. And I’m here. And we’re driving across the country, together, toward something that could be new or old or broken or whole.

“How long will it take us to get there?” I ask, my voice fragile around the emotion I

“Five days,” Zaid replies, eyes flicking to me, then back to the window,

Five days.

I shudder, almost imperceptibly, but it’s not from the cold. It’s from the weight of what

that means.