Silence filled Emily’s room as she lay curled up in Zahir’s arms, savouring the warmth and closeness between them. They had finally let their walls down and the silence that hung between them now felt intimate, peaceful.
"If you say that this doesn't mean a thing..." Zahir trailed off, his voice a low, warning murmur as he brushed a hand through her hair, his eyes locked onto hers.
Emily laughed softly, resting her head on his chest.
"You are mine, Emily Langston," he whispered possessively.
"And you are mine, Zahir Ahmed," She whispered back, equally possessive.
Zahir smirked, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. He loved how she was never intimidated by him, always ready to challenge him, push back, stand toe-to-toe.
They lay there for a moment, wrapped up in each other, enjoying a rare, unguarded moment. But suddenly, the sound of the front door opening and footsteps approaching the living room startled them out of their reverie.
