Edward looked at Emily, shocked at his own admission that the faceless woman in his thoughts was none other than her, the one woman he had married in his entire life, who, gratefully, was also the only woman he had kneeled for, and yet also the only woman who could make him kneel on his words, and more, again.
Overwhelmed with this discovery and before realizing what he was doing, Edward took hold of Emily’s arm and pulled her forward. She skidded on her steps before her palms fell flat on his hard chest and her mouth fell open in surprise.
His fingers urgently found her cheekbone, his hands curling affectionately around her face. With breaths coming in rasps, he searched for the release from these overwhelming emotions suddenly brewing inside his chest, twisting and churning painfully.
Or perhaps they've been there all along but he was too much of a coward and stickler to ever think he could subject himself to that pain of feeling some kind of mere affection other than friendship for his best friend.
But he couldn't have been more wrong before and all his efforts of ignorance and running after superficial happiness were coming back to bite at him now with full force than ever.
So much that he was sure he had almost lost even the bare minimum of what he didn't even deserve, to be honest.
Emily Willow's friendship.
His marriage. And the utter horror of seeing the only woman he didn't ever wish to hurt turns into his ex-wife.
And all the times they had been happy in their marriage, where he was not only happy but also felt the most content man when he went to bed each night.
And now that bleak dot of happy memories, their marriage, their home, their friendship, their relationship as husband and a wife — not only didn't even exist but was more on the verge of burning him alive than anything he ever had to face in his life.
How he regretted each moment of his foolishness with every fibre of his being. How he would do anything, anything, to get back to that phase life again and make amends so that he would never have to face himself in the mirror each day — with shame, guilt, regret, misery, desperation and longing.
As his thoughts turned to a more dangerous direction, he trapped her waist in his demanding hands, his fingers curling possessively at the curve of her hips. He closed his eyes in the damn efforts to calm his feelings down lest he should do what he shouldn't be doing to Emily now that they weren't married anymore, or bloody hell, what he shouldn't be doing — to her — even during the marriage which wasn't on real terms.
He shifted his grip reluctantly upward, from her hips, in the event of not frightening her with the intensity of his desire.
Emily whimpered in his arms as his thumb grazed the satiny soft skin of her cheeks, his gaze entirely focused on that feeling of touching her so close, so real, so warm and responsive, and yet she seemed so far, far from his reach.
They were standing more in proximity than ever and yet, they couldn't have been more far apart with the differences lying between them like a thorn poking and tearing apart his inhibitions of being just a friend with Emily.
He just couldn't get enough of her, even now with her soft breath fanning his knuckles. He curled them tightly in a fist to prevent himself from pinning her against the nearest solid obstacle possible and having his way with her.
Upside and down. And down—
No! Hell and beyond. He wasn't usually such a damn bastard but he doubted he would ever have to say anything in his defense now that he knew what kind of devil possessed him in his nearness to Emily.
His heart ached, convulsed and beat wildly against his ribcage as if he couldn't breathe a second more in anticipation of what could have happened between them if he didn't muck up things the way he did.
He was an asshole in what he subjected her to, the utter humiliation of keeping her beside him all the time — even when he thought himself ready to marry some other woman who was apparently the so-called dying devotion of his life.
And still not the love of his life, he guessed.
He was so sure of his feelings at that time that the thought of ever having to lose Emily didn't ever cross his mind.
Until that particular thought was the only thing that kept him awake at nights, tossing and turning and writhing within the weight of his decision, even when they were already legally tied in a holy matrimony — and he wasn't sure about the reasons he married his best friend in such fake terms anymore.
And now that the same fact was so close to snap at his feet like a lava ready to swallow him alive, his entire being was focused on only one parameter of his life which had been such a constant in his life he wasn't sure he would survive any longer than he would if she were to become true of ever going away from him.
Hell, the mere inkling of the thought damn well gave him nightmares to the point he'd just lay awake like an empty shell of a man and stare at his ceiling, waiting for the damn rise of the sun to make him blind upon his life breaking so casually apart in front of his eyes.
And how he even lost the bare minimum right to do anything right by her.
He realised he was staring at her.
And not just staring. But literally devouring her with his raking eyes, wherever they could reach; whatever they could imprint upon his memory to cherish as long as he breathed; however they could gauze her response to his touch, his hungry and wanting gaze the utter replacement of what his hands, mouth and tongue couldn't do to her in reality.
It's as if he didn’t yet realize she had existed the way she had existed in his thoughts the moment when he couldn't think of having any other woman in life but her.
It was like it had always been Emily. And it will always be her. And her alone.
Sweet God in heavens, he groaned inwardly. He was going insane with the intensity of the longing churning his guts to mushy potatoes.
Gasping for the need to breathe and swallowing at the same time, his fingers stroked her cheeks, revelling in their softness, their warmth radiating to his palms. His eyes were wide open in view, as if they couldn’t quite understand why she was the way she had been in his fantasy when she was his real wife.
Did that mean Emily was the only woman he could marry in this whole world? Would that make him a complete ass to find pleasure in the idea of either having her by his side as his wife or have none at all and remain single and unattached till he died?
What man in his right mind would feel happy about having just one woman in the whole world to marry and not feel sorrow over it? He remembered his college friends always wailing about the fact that marriage with one woman would miserably fail and so they would take as much time as possible to play around before settling for the satisfaction of their duties.
But he had no problem settling over one woman. If that woman were indeed the only thing in his mind all day for the past one year, then oh yes, God, yes he wouldn't mind at all.
He tilted his head along with tilting her soft face in his hands, his brows knitted closer in concentration. And admiration. Of her essence. Of her charm. And the mere fact that her existence was at the same time as him on this earth.
Emily looked dazed as she glanced at the hand cradling her face and then at Edward’s face, delightful confusion marring her features.
She opened her mouth to speak something, perhaps about his improper manners, but his hands were quick to find the source of her voice — her lips now.
His thumb traced her lower lip, pulling it down a little as her breath hitched in her throat, her breathing slowing down.
Her lips parted in amazement, her eyes searching for any explanation he’d provide for his actions.
But he had none to give it — even to himself, so whatever he could possibly say that would explain this rumbling feeling of being lifted from his feet in happiness and being drowned in the misery and pain of not being happy of what he had at present, at the same time.
Does such a thing possibly exist at all? He was sure she'd laugh at him or peer at him in curiosity — or perhaps put her nervous ramblings on action to enquire about his symptoms more so that she could diagnose him properly, if it was any ailment that was ailing him.
But it was no ailment. It couldn't be. Not at all. He was sure such a feeling of being torn apart in her presence was so natural, so authentic and so precious, he would die all over again and — yet again — only to feel the same feeling for her in his next life.
And next, and perhaps next too. And perhaps more. He wasn't sure anymore but he had this terrifying feeling in his heart, the dread and the doom combined that it meant going for something real and long lasting.
Like for-ever.
_________
I know it kept going on and off for Edward for so so long that you guys must have been tired to your bones — or perhaps wish to bone him alive than anyone else — but I think I can say our guy is finally getting around, though I still don't know why his head was under the mushroom cap mud all this time.
If such a mud even exists, to be honest.
I know I updated after such a long time. And tbh, I even lost more than 90 percent motivation to ever continue writing this book — but you guys are so sweet and make it your duty to make my day by leaving so encouraging and motivational compliments about this book — that I just had to come back.
This is my final year, literally I'm bored and moved to tears by attending classes, wards, exams, seminars, vivas each day, but something in me wishes to be that doctor who would somehow learn to talk with people, not at surface level but at the core level too.
I wish to be faith healer as well, and not just pour medicines on my prescription so I feel like communication is my strong key in this aspect.
But aside from this, I'm literally struggling to study for PG and I need that PG Seat no matter what!
So wish me luck guys 'cause your author's gonna be so crushed in PG even a stick up her spine won't make her stand up straight in 72 hours shift lol. Idk why the thought makes me more excited than terrified!
I'm most looking forward to going to the Emergency and Trauma Centre postings lol.
So have you guys ever found any doctor handsome to the point you're distracted lol? Cause I think I'm finding myself in this situation every year, with every new doctor lol.
So how was this chapter?
Do you feel like you're even an inch closer in forgiving Edward?
Do you think they should just make up already and have a hot sliding sex against Edward's office desk — or he should get the taste of his own medicine and should suffer more?
I know suffering more always seem too much tempting to you guys, so many of you text me to just burn alive Edward lol, but I still think he's a human so why not wait and see if he comes around — possibly by himself or by a giant python dragging his balls?
Good Morning my fellas.
I'm not sure who's reading this chapter since I've lost many readers also so if you'd be sweet enough to drop your name, I'd love to see the support.
Thank you.
