The Nechi's Wife

✣ chapter twenty-five ✣

we hit 30k reads! ahhhhhhhh!

also, it's been about two months. damn. I promised myself I would continue this story no matter how long it took. and I stick to that promise. thank you for anyone who is still around.

I will say that we are starting to get closer to the latter half of the book. I promise the torture I will finish soon XD.

...

Ayan's POV

"I want to send my parents a letter," I told Flynd. He was in bed, lazily splayed across the sheets while I stood above him. "Flynd, wake up."

He groaned and rolled away from me. "I am awake. And I'm tired."

I frowned and touched his shoulder. "This is important to me. I thought about it all night."

"It's so early in the morning," He whined, motioning to light streaming through our curtains. "Ask me later."

I sighed. He was so charming when he whined but I didn't have time to admire his figure in the thin sheets. I needed an answer.

"Flynd," I whispered as I crawled onto the bed beside him. He mumbled something unintelligible but didn't move. My fingers brushed over his exposed shoulders and I felt him shiver under my touch. "Flynd?"

He turned toward me, his blue eyes focusing on my face. "What are you trying to do?"

I giggled and leaned closer. "I'm trying to ask you something."

"Maybe we should do something else," He murmured, grabbing my waist suggestively.

"Absolutely not," I said authoritatively. "Not until you take me seriously."

Defeat flashed across his face. "Fine. I don't recommend you send the letter. Wait."

I pressed my face to his. As he took the cue to begin undressing me, I thought back to all the times we'd made love before. I recalled that one time, Flynd had tried to sneakily pull me into a closet. Unfortunately, I'd panicked, thinking he was Declan. Needless to say, there were no more surprises.

"Flynd?"

"Mm?" He murmured into my neck.

My body flushed with pleasant warmth as his hands grazed my arms. "I would like to send a letter. I promised I would."

He stopped his ministrations to look me in the eye. From his position hovering over me, I could see concern in his gaze. "Just wait, Ayan. Promise?"

...

I had promised Flynd I would wait. But later that afternoon, he had taken me out on a picnic. As we had eaten bread and drank wine and enjoyed each other's company, I noticed the way he was looking at me. His eyes were so full of adoration—it reminded me of when I was younger, and my mother would cut my hair or dress me up. The way she looked at me with a deepfelt love.

I had to send a letter.

...

Flynd was fast asleep.

So, I slipped out of bed and tip-toed to the office room nearby. A paper and quill rested atop the surface of a desk which was rather convenient. This house had come supplied with everything it seemed.

As I brought the quill to paper, I hesitated. What was I supposed to say? How would my parents feel if they knew everything? I imagined they would be worried. Unless I explained that I was safe.

Dear Mother, Father,

I apologize for not sending a letter sooner; so much was happening that it slipped my mind. But I've remembered now, and I have much to tell you. Largely, good things.