Chapter 1

• ZARIAH, 21 YEARS OLD, MASSACHUSETTS.
• The summer air clung to my skin, thick with the scent of wildflowers and something unspoken. The moon hung low, a sliver of silver against the darkened sky, casting a dim glow over the man who had become my entire world.
• "I'll stick with you till my last breath, Riah. I love you."
• Nolan’s voice was low, hoarse—like he was trying to brand the words into my soul. His black eyes burned into mine, filled with a promise I wanted to believe in, even as the edges of my heart threatened to splinter. We had fought through hell to be together, only to be torn apart by parents who refused to see past their own prejudices. His father, an arrogant businessman, loathed everything my family believed in, and mine saw him as nothing more than a lost cause.
• But none of that mattered right now. Not when we had this moment, the last one we could call our own.
• I forced a smile, but my throat tightened. I dropped my gaze to where my fingers trembled against his shirt, the fabric soft beneath my touch. My palm flattened over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart—proof that he was still here, still mine. For now.
• Nolan stiffened slightly, his breath catching as my fingers traced downward, slipping beneath the hem of his shirt. I felt the ripple of muscles under my touch, the tension thrumming through him. A spark of satisfaction curled in my stomach—I wasn’t the only one struggling to hold on. I wasn’t the only one being affected by the spark between us.
• His lips crashed against mine before I could say anything. The hunger in his kiss sent a shiver down my spine, making me gasp. Using that as an oppurtunity, his fingers tangled in my long, dark hair, tilting my head back, and he deepened the kiss—like he was memorizing the shape of my mouth, the way I tasted. Like he was afraid this would be the last time.
• And maybe he had the foresight to understand that it was. So with all the sincerity I could muster I said:
• “I love you,” I whispered between desperate kisses. “I love you, Nolan.”
• His answer wasn’t in words. It was in the way he pulled me closer, like he could fuse us together and make time stop.
• But time was cruel and it stopped for no man.
• ⭑❈❈⭑
• Two months later
• The airport was sterile, cold—so different from the warmth of that summer night.
• Nolan’s duffel bag was slung over his shoulder, his free hand gripping mine so tightly it hurt. I didn’t care. I wanted the pain. I needed something real to hold on to before he left for Stuttgart—a place I couldn’t even fucking pronounce—before our world turned into late-night phone calls and unanswered texts.
• “I’ll miss you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my lips, soft but lingering. “But I promise you this, Riah—when I come back, I’ll find you. I’ll make you my wife, whether the world approves or not. You will be mine.”
• I let out a shaky breath, gripping his wrist. “You always keep your promises.” I wished there wasn’t doubt at the back of my mind when I said it.
• His lips twitched into a half-smile. “Always.”
• I wanted to believe him. I needed to believe him. But fear slithered into my chest, whispering ugly things—What if he found someone else? What if he forgot me?
• Nolan must have seen it in my eyes because his fingers tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “It’s going to be years before we see each other again, but we can wait, right?”
• I tried to speak, but my voice failed me. Instead, I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Right.”
• His fingers traced my jawline one last time before he stepped back, adjusting the strap of his bag.
• “Don’t turn back,” I said suddenly, the words tumbling out. “If you do, I might lose my mind and drag you back. Just keep walking.”
• Amusement flickered in his stormy eyes. “Promise.” It was a stupid joke we had. From the first day he had asked me out and I had said no, then I proceeded to pull him by his shirt and kiss him when he turned to leave. It was a ridiculous thing—what I did—and Nolan had never let me live it down. Said I had lost my mind.
• But here we were and I couldn’t do what I did then because he turned.
• He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t look back.
• I wanted him to. God, I wanted him to so badly it hurt.
• Instead, I watched him disappear up the escalator, swallowed by the crowd. My heart screamed for him to turn around, to flash me that cocky grin one last time.
• But he never did.
• And somewhere deep inside, I already knew—this wasn’t just see you later.
• This was the beginning of the end.