A Love Restored

Chapter 82

The sizzle of onions filled the kitchen, a comforting rhythm against the thrumming in my chest. The memories of last night were fresh in my head. More so, in my body. It felt like his fingers had never left my skin. I was filled with him, possessed with him.

When he appeared in the kitchen, I didn’t notice. It was only when I looked up from the pan,

, I saw him watching me, leaning against the door. He was still in sweatpants and a T shirt, what he was wearing last night. His eyes were bloodshot, sleepy and hung–over. His hair, tousled and messy, still made him look like some kind of Greek God. I didn’t have it in me to face him after last night. And here he was, backlit by the morning sun, filling the doorway with the remnants of last night’s events.NôvelDrama.Org: owner of this content.

“Felix?” My voice, rusty from disuse, cracked like the eggs I was beating. I coughed to clear my throat

“Hey.” He answered softly.

I licked my lips, they suddenly felt so dry. He took a seat at the

e kitchen island, on a stool, all while his eyes were zeroed in on my mouth.

“Coffee?” I asked, the word a staccato. I wasn’t sure how to speak to him normally. It was like my voice was stuck in my throat..

He nodded. 1 quickly poured him a mug of steaming coffee, and placed it in front of him. He took a sip gingerly and grimaced.

“Sorry.” I whispered, “Is it too bitter? I can brew more.

He shook his head. “It’s alright, Flora.”

I continued beating the eggs. They didn’t need to be beaten anymore. With the fast movements of my hands, they were now turning into a cloudy mix.

“I’m really sorry,” His apology tumbled out suddenly, choked and raw, words tumbling over each other in a desperate rush.

There was a lump in my throat. I swallowed. He was apologizing…for last night?

“For yesterday?”

He nodded. “I have much to apologize for. But that, for now,” I didn’t know what to say to that. But then, I saw it. The shame in his eyes, the haunted shadows mirroring the storm raging within me.

“It’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t have…and the whole thing with Liam…God, Flora, I was so drunk.”

My slight anger dissolved into a weary understanding. We were both wounded, adrift in the wreckage of our broken love. “You were hurting,” I said, the words coming out son

than intended. “And I… I let you believe the wrong thing. I’m sorry, too.” It was a bitter truth, a silent accusation.

A ghost of a smile, fragile and fleeting, curved his lips. “There’s nothing to forgive, Flora. He pleaded, his eyes desperate, seeking absolution. “Please.”

In that moment, I saw not the man who hurled accuses at me last night, but the boy who held my hand under the fireworks, the one who wrote poems on napkins in greasy diners. The one who made me laugh until my sides ached and who swore his love under a blanket of–stars.

He gulped a huge sip of his coffee. “I can’t even begin to apologize for what I did.” He buried his face in his hands, unable to look at me, it seemed. “I… I’m so sorry,” he blurted, the words tumbling out in a chaotic rush. For last night, for everything. I. had no right – it was never my intention…. His gaze locked with hers, the hazel depths swirling with a storm of emotions he couldn’t decipher. “I was just… jealous, angry… a coward hiding behind cheap Liquor.”

I smiled lightly, “I don’t think it was cheap liquor.”

He cracked a small smile. “Well, it wasn’t expensive.” He lifted his head to look at me, and our eyes met. “I shouldn’t have touched you like that. Not when I was drunk and angry. I didn’t mean to take advantage –

“I wanted it, too.” I cut him off. I couldn’t believe the words coming out of my own mouth. His eyes widened for a moment, his mouth opened, like he was about to say something. But he didn’t.

“You don’t deserve to be treated like that,” he said, “You deserve… a nice date. Flowers. Sweetness.”

I wanted that. But I wanted the rough parts, too. I wanted the angst and the heat and the desperation I had felt in his hands last night.

NY

question tore through the fragile silence. “Have you… been waiting?” His voice was rough, laced with a

a fear t

that mimored my own

I still waiting? No, not after all the tears, the angry

y nights, the forced laughter with friends who didn’t know the man who danced in my dreams. then, when I closed my eyes, his fingers tangled in mine, his kiss hot on my breath, I was sixteen again, lost in the dizzying maze of first love.

at else could I do?” I whispered, my voice barely audible. It felt like I was naked in front of him. Like I was baring myself to him. My worst parts, my best truths. “No one is you, Felix.”

breath hitched, and in that moment, I saw the weight of my words land. He reached out, a tentative hand searching for mine. My fingers met his, I against his heat, a hesitant spark igniting between us.

sat about… others?” he asked, his voice thick with unspoken fear. “Surely, in five years…

sook my head, my expression resolute, but inside I felt so vulnerable. “There was no one else, Felix. It’s always just been you.”

e world around us dissolved. The sizzle of onions, the tick of the clock, all faded into the background noise of our shared silence. He pulled me close,

warmth seeping into the cracks of my chilled soul. My head nestled against his chest, the familiar scent of Felix wrapping around me like a gotten lullaby.

pressed his lips to

the crown of my head, a silent promise mingling with the salty taste of his tears.

pulled back, his gaze searching mine. “You waited…not knowing if we’d ever meet again?”

ook a deep breath. His gaze on me was so intense, his eyes were watery from the few tears he had shed. “I wasn’t waiting,” I answered honestly, “I st…never thought of anyone like that. It’s always been you, Felix ”

is fingers found mine, barely touching, then our hands intertwined. “You’re…” he didn’t finish his sentence. I don’t think he even knew what he was sing to say.

I’m sorry it happened like that,” he said, apologizing again, “God, and to think of your first time.”

smiled. “Nothing happened, though.” He nodded, but didn’t seem convinced.

I would have done it.” I said. “If you weren’t drunk.” I bit my lip. “I want you, too.”

God, Flora.” He groaned. He grabbed my face softly with one hand, his fingers on one cheek, and his thumb on the other. “You make it so hard to have elf–control.”

His face dipped down, our lips lingered, hovering over each other. They were so close, I could almost feel a phantom touch of his lips on mine, but it wasn’t real, I knew that much. I let out a huge sigh, it fanned his face.

His eyes darkened as they bore into mine. “Did I kiss you last night?” he asked.

“No.”

“Good,” he spoke softly, “I’ll do it when we aren’t

I nodded. “So hungover? In the middle of cooking?”

“Maybe.” He smiled. He leaned in, and kissed my cheek. His lips lingered near the skin before he pulled away.

“Oh no, my onions!” 1 exclaimed, the forgotten thought of the onions I was caramelizing now back in my mind. I pulled away from him, rushing back the stove. Thankfully, they hadn’t burnt. 1 quickly turned off the heat.

“What are you making?” Felix appeared behind me, peering down at the food.

“A caramelized onion frittata.” I answered, “I saw a recipe on YouTube.”

“Sounds good. Want to eat together after I take a shower?”

Taken by surprise, I quickly nodded. “Yeah, I’d love to.” He smiled.

As I cooked, I played back today’s events in my mind. His kiss on my cheek, his sweet apology, the sweet vulnerability in his eyes. It all made me feel like, finally, I had my Felix back.