Stay with me

Chapter 17 - Day of Open Hearts

Little by little the frantic beat of blood in the temple calmed down and the heart returned to its place in the chest. Omer rolled onto his back and carried Defne along with him. She snuggled into his long, muscular body and pressed her cheek to his chest. His heart was beating under her ear. Measured and clearly. At first often, but every minute more calmly and quietly. This sound was more beautiful than any melody. And his hands, which gently hugged her and brushed her hair, were most welcome. And the tenderness and gratitude that now welled up in her chest, the most sincere.

"Thank you ..." she whispered.

- For what? He asked, quietly.

Defne laid her bent elbows on his chest and rested her chin on her fist. Looking into obsidian black eyes she answered:

"Because you are you." For not giving up on us. For enduring my doubts. For stubbornly day after day, stifling your pride, you proved your feelings. That you didn't give me a divorce. That followed me into the neighborhood and lived there without complaints and indignation, - Defne smiled slyly. "For enduring Sabrina's claims."

Omer rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"As I recall, I was startled," he shivered. "And you, not helping me, only giggled."

"It was so funny," Defne answered his complaint, and her laughter sounded like overflowing bells. "You were so scared, and she was so pushy."

Omer squeezed her hands harder. It was as if afraid that his unpredictable wife would want to escape. And honestly admitted:

"I was afraid that you would be jealous."

- From whom? From Sabrina? – Defne's giggle turned into laughter, and her redhead again fell on his chest. Calming down, she wiped away the tears that appeared in her eyes and enlightened her husband. "My dear, I may be silly, but not a fool!"

Omer, with the speed of a hurricane, turned on his stomach and pressed Defne to bed. Holding his torso on his elbows, he stared intently into the laughing eyes and asked:

- Then why were you jealous of Iz?

Her giggles melted, and the smile slowly faded. Defne shrugged a thin shoulder and replied:

- This is Iz ... Beautiful, talented, daring ... special. Your first love...

"Silly," Omer leaned over and kissed her swollen lips, and then rolled onto his side and pressed Defne's head to his chest.

"You are the most special." You are my Love. My soul. Iz - was my childhood. I have never experienced a tenth of what I feel for you.

Defne threw back her head and looked into his face.

- True? She asked trustfully.

- True! He answered and kissed her cool forehead.

Defne hugged him around the waist and, not ceasing to smile, pressed her cheek to his broad and warm chest. Omer gently stroked her back. Defne purred with pleasure. His fingers, touching almost weightlessly, slowly began to stroke the sharp bones of her spine.

"How skinny you are ... It's my fault," he whispered repentantly. While he was licking his wounds in Marseilles, his girl was suffering from unbearable heart torment. Can he ever forgive himself for this? Omer sighed heavily and closed his eyes.

Defne heard. And guessed the reasons. But what was - passed, and no longer matters. She doesn't want Omer to suffer guilt and torment himself for what they were both to blame. She doesn't want the mistakes of the past to overshadow their present.

But persuasion and assurances that he is mistaken, now certainly will not help. But something else...

Defne gently tickled him on the ribs and mocked: