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I was going home.
These were the words that played in my mind, again and again, like a mantra. After all this time, I was going back home. I had dreamt of it but never really thought it'd happen.
Everything around me was washing away in to a blur. Lost amongst the oblivion of time.
It was as though the world had stilled before me, and all around me was playing in slow emotion. I could see my world crashing before me, yet I remained helpless. Seeing it yet unable to reach forward. Unable to grasp on to the world before me.
Warm tears stinged my eyes, the words of the flight attendant dissolving past my ears.
Nothing was making sense. How could this even happen?
I mentally whispered, feeling the tears trail down dangerously. Unable to hold back. In my mind, I screamed, yelled for a saviour, for anyone to take my away from this, from all this pain yet no one came.
Glancing at the man beside me, I felt him reach easily towards my hand. Taking it in his larger one. Leaning in, I felt his warm arm drape over me, my face covering next to his chest.
Silent tears came down freely, the overwhelming feeling gnawing at my insides. Images of last night flashed before me, Zachary's smiling face playing before me. His words remaining a shield against the world.
He left, he was gone.
I reminded myself, yet despite everything. I didn't want to believe that. Somewhere at the back of my mind. I wish he wasn't gone, I wish he was here. I wish he could come here right now, and take me somewhere far away.
He had showed me a new world, all in the midst of four hours. Yet it felt like a lifetime. Omar hadn't ever looked at me, the way Zachary did.
He was always away, with either Sarah or the men on the bikes. I knew I was stupid, the stupidest woman in the world, but somehwere at the bottom of my heart. I wondered what it would be like, to truly see him. To have him standing before me, after two years.
My questions became my ally, hounding through the journey. Wanting a piece of my broken soul, ripping it apart. Devouring the last threads of strength I had.
Flickering my gaze upwards at Aman, his large blue eyes were now closed tightly. His long eyes lashes covering his lids. A loose strand fell across his handsome face, and despite myself. I smiled lightly.
He was a guardian angel. Aman had always been there, in the ups and downs. We all ran to him when things got tough and in return all he did was grin and shake his head. Abba never treated Aman, any less than a son, in fact he favoured him more. Despite that fact that he was, his brothers son. Aman was the love of Abba's eyes.
Mum had been married to Uncle Zayed, briefly for a year. He loved her dearly and soon enough Mum was pregnant with Aman. Uncle Zayed had also served in the army, one fateful night, a week before he came home. He had been shot, alongside his crew. Some survived, and some didn't, and Uncle Zayed was one of them who didn't.
YOU ARE READING
The Mafia WifeRomance
"You don't fear the monsters under the bed. You fear the one hiding under one's flesh my dearest wife". A dark voice spoke, making me tense. A cold shiver rustled down my spine; causing my stomach roll. My insides twisting and turning in nervousene...