𝔇𝔞𝔴𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔇𝔲𝔰𝔨: 𝔐𝔞𝔫𝔢 𝔄𝔡 𝔙𝔢𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔲𝔪
A man to save, a dynasty to break and a love to die for.
Come dive into a modern and desi retelling of a beloved classic, Beauty and the Beast, part two of 'The Legacy Duet', Taimoor's story.
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Taimoor
𝕱ire and flame. My skin singed and peeled back. Burned. It burned so steadily that this could be purgatory. The fire bit into my knees and my toes. There was no part of me it did not touch. Pain was a shadow with body and form. I was in hell. It hurt more than I ever thought possible and I knew that a guy like me didn't deserve heaven.
Heat crawled up my back and pushed in, hot blades on damaged skin, and I could not stand it. I could not stand it. A minute ago everything was black. The hurt clarified its shape. Pressure. It was pressure. From lying on my back. I had not felt that in years. Struggling, I saw the night edged in flickering flames. The darkness at the center of my vision shifted, clearing enough to see the shape of a person. If I could only get there. If I could only get up.
I got one hand into the covers and pushed.
The movement caused the person next to me to stir.
Daania.
Daania, in my white shirt, my shorts, clothes I'd never thought I'd see her in. Her eyes widened with hope and fear and something else. Shattering relief rolled into me and detonated. Cut through the fear and pain like a bullet. Like a rushing wind. Pressure build around and in my lungs. It was bigger. More expansive. It moved up into my throat and ached there. A balled-up tension I hadn't felt in a long, long time. I suppressed my smile when I felt my legs tangled with hers. Her head rested on my chest, and I felt my hand move to play with my hair. There were always those few seconds when you woke up that you felt immense peace. Your mind had yet to overwhelm you with reality, and for those few seconds each day, you had no worries and no pain.
It was blissful. This time I expected that feeling to go away, but it didn't.
Her eyes flickered, blinking in the light, mild confusion on her face. Bleary eyes blinked and slowly took me in. She furrowed her brow and tugged up the comforter. I wouldn't mind seeing her face like this, cheeks pink from sleep, every day for the rest of my life.
"Morning."
"How are you?" the concern in her eyes was both beautiful and terrible.
"Better, much better," her eyes searched mine for a lie. As if I'd have the energy to lie. "How are you?" my mouth was dry from breathing the superheated air from hell, but I got it to work, my fingers gently brushing the bruise on her jaw. If that fucker wasn't already in the hospital, I would gladly pummel him into the ground. Again.
"You're asking me if I'm okay? When you were the one fighting for your life? Yeah I'm fine Taimoor, just peachy," tears glistened in her rustic orbs as light poured from the windows and onto her face, so bright it hurt my eyes. So pure, that it hurt my heart.
"Don't belittle what you went through," swallowing hurt, a jagged scrape. "Did you take your anxiety pills?"
"I didn't need them," surprised, I held her gaze until she blushed a deep red. Until I could see the memory of last night in her eyes. All my skin pulled tight with the effort of keeping it together while relief and animal lust sledgehammered my rib cage."How did you find me that night?"
