Pure Happiness *Adım Farah FaHir fanfic*

Bahar Part II: Your Spring Has Turned to Winter

Author's Note:

Affet beni...

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It's been 34 days...

Without you.

Without your eyes finding mine in every room I enter.

Without being able to feel your touch whenever I reach for you.

Without the sound of your voice saying my name and assuring me I'm not alone.

Farah rubbed her left hand over her roiling belly and loosened her grip on the dirt she was grasping in her right hand and it settled back into place. Dark clouds were gathering overhead and she knew she'd have to leave soon.

Closing her eyes as the tears streamed down her face, she opened her palm completely and pressed it flat against the piece of earth that held a piece of her.

Tahir was dead.

And a part of her had died with him.

God damn the day I lost you.

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8 weeks ago (and the morning after the last chapter)

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Farah stretched and turned onto her left side in bed. Her eyes fluttered open and she was met with the glorious sight of her husband's back. Even with his many scars, he was still the sexiest thing she'd ever seen.

Speaking of scars...



There were five fresh scratches on Tahir's right shoulder. Farah bit her lip, thinking back to yesterday and tried to remember if it was during round one at the restaurant or round two in the kitchen that inspired her to mark her man.

She stretched her hand out and let her fingers feather over the broken skin. Tahir's shoulder twitched and he pushed his head deeper into the pillow as a soft rumble sounded in his chest.

Farah smiled to herself and scooted forward until her front was flush against his back. She was wearing nothing but a tiny pink silk nightie that she'd managed to slip on before falling exhausted into bed last night. The heat of Tahir's skin blazed through the thin material, warming her in ways the blanket never could.

She gently pressed her lips to the center of his back between his strong shoulder blades as her fingers carried on with their delicate exploration. Tahir never really let her take the time to study his scars, she assumed because the topic reminded him of his past, and anything on that subject was always quickly closed. But to her, he was all the more beautiful for them. They were a badge of honor that both fascinated and broke her heart.

The scars along his left side she knew were from his childhood and she softly kissed and caressed them, wishing her love could wash them away. They might not hurt anymore, but they pained him, nonetheless.

The more recent battle scars she kissed with reverence, saying a prayer of thanks for his courage and well-being.

The love marks she'd made herself were a reminder she needed to be more careful with him.

Farah knew he probably had thousands more unseen marks below the surface; healed over and buried so deep nothing would ever reach them. Yet still, the child who had known nothing but abuse and torment and had grown into the man who knew nothing but death and loneliness, somehow became the most loving, thoughtful, dedicated soul she'd ever known.