“Asfi?” he repeated. “You’re the only one I would ever let get away with calling me that.”

“Kasam se?” she asked. “Do you mean it?”

“Teri kasam,” he replied, eyes earnest. He swore it on her.

His hands were resting on her waist, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Snuggled against him, she was safe, at ease, suspended in the eye of the storm raging on around her.

Here, there was peace.

“Durkhanai,” he said against her hair, voice gentle but tentative. His body tensed against her. “I need to . . . to talk to you.”

“Mm,” she sighed into him. “Not yet.”

She could tell whatever he had to say was important, and she didn’t want to ruin this. She wanted the peace to last a little longer.

“I think you should know,” he said, pulling back. She searched his eyes, saw how distraught he was, how torn. He didn’t want to tell her but knew he must.

“Please,” she told him, voice soft and coaxing. “Let’s just have tonight. Whatever it is, tell me in the morning. I just want to spend a little more time with you.”

“You don’t understand,” he tried again, but he was losing his resolve. “There are things I haven’t told you—”

Durkhanai didn’t want to listen.

“Shh.” She covered his mouth with her hand. “Tomorrow.”

“Durkhanai—” he sighed.

She could tell, somehow, that whatever he had to say would change things forever. That she would hate him afterwards, and she didn’t want to hate him. Not yet.

She just wanted the night, before the inevitable happened. She knew it was a bad idea, knew it would change nothing, knew it would only make things more difficult.

But she couldn’t help it. She was too selfish, too self-indulgent to resist

Behind Asfandyar, she watched stars glittering in the sky.

“Tomorrow,” she insisted. She felt like she was on the top of the bell tower, overlooking the entire world, heart hammering, wind whipping against her skin.

He opened his mouth to speak, once more. But before he could, she pulled his face down to hers.

She kissed him.

He didn’t need a moment to recover: he kissed her as though he’d been waiting for this moment for days and it was finally here. His words evaporated on her tongue, engulfed by something deeper.

There was nothing more important than this.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

They kissed each other raw.

His mouth on hers was like stars melting on her tongue: molten and sugary sweet. She seized his kurta, pulling him closer, insatiable, and his hands ran down her back, one snaking under her leg.

Overcome with desire that nipped and bit, that bruised and bled, she wanted all of him. She could tell he did, too. Her hands knotted into his hair, his glorious curls, and his grip on her tightened.

“Durkhanai,” he gasped, pulling back.

“Why did you stop?” she asked, feeling starved.