You Changed My Story

Chapter 11

Time

a word that turns even stars into dust

Ventum—

STORMME

The cave mustered one final crack, after the harsh toil and faithless rejections by doctors. An Ophthalmologist located in Germany agreed to perform Olivet's surgery. Cold sweat washed me night on end while I climbed and fall from the ladder of worry. Now, like a babe who was taken from the womb, I took my first drink of air. This is my — No, our only chance and I'd like for us to take it, hand in hand.

Olivet strolled out of the bathroom drying her hair, my heart palpitates and I raked my fingers across my scalp. Her eyes looked frozen over as if the winter slept there. But her smile untied the wild in my soul and the wreck from when I tore away from her that evening ached.

She sits next to me and rests her head on my knee. Her chestnut curls and waves —that lovely thicket, one month's tropical growth had collected on the carpets. My hand itched to reach out and twine those locks between my fingers. The taste of her lips had faded from my mouth. I had hoped that it would linger just a little longer but the sudden loss scourged me, in an instant like whips across the back.

I swallowed, shifting slightly. I was utterly stunned.

"I've never traveled to Germany." She placed her smooth arms over my leg and the muscles there contracted. Her face was dangerously close to my crotch, "I can't wait." This woman's scent violates reason and sense, makes me tremble and growl.

I caressed her head and she grew small and shy. "We'll be there in a few days and I'll be with you every step of the way." She shampooed her hair, an entire rainforest of pine trees, filled with yearning. She's the tomorrow I held in my arms and my mornings are never so cold.

We sat quietly, side by side, to eat fluffy pancakes, dangling and spilling, fragrant sauce dripping out, and I glanced at her wordlessly. Her lips flowed with rich pink strawberries. I swiped a little away with my thumb and she blushed, deflowering pheromones.

An electric flare of emotions made me swoon at the scent that dispersed heavily from her nape. Stop, you little minx, you don't know what you're doing to me.

"What's your father like?" She questioned.

I frowned, folding my arms,
Bad timing Olly!

"I don't have a relationship with my father. My parents joined two powerful families when they got married, their business turned into a global empire. He ruled with an iron fist. " I pressed her fingers to my eyes. "They never loved each other."

They placed me in a golden castle and nurtured my wailing with diamonds and precious stones. Father dried my tears with a million dollars, he gave me twice when I was heartbroken and needed his comfort.

My birthgivers gave me all that I needed except their affection.

"My parents are the opposite," she buried her face in her hands. "We hardly made ends meet —they gave me warmth but your pain was far greater than mine."

I ran my finger across her eyebrows and her delicate nose, "Don't worry about it little wife, despite the fact that dad came from old money, I did well for myself."

"I want to open my own bakery one day," she chewed on her lower lip, looking extremely shy and she made me want to kiss her the more. "I'd like it if you'd support me."

The corner of my mouth lifted and I grasped her chin, "Yes. Only if I get to wear a muffin costume."

She stifled a satisfied chuckle but burst out into a shrill laughter, "I couldn't hold it in."