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   Chapter 91 Ninety one

Romira By Akanksha Jaiswal Characters: 8171

Updated: 2019-11-21 23:45



'I'm sorry.'

Oh Romero

I'm vaguely aware of his one hand caressing my face tenderly and other running through my hair smoothly. With a content sigh, I press deeper in the warmth of the hand.

It feels good, so good.

If it's a dream I don't want to wake up from it. I'd rather spend my entire life in a dream with his comfort as company than face his absence in real life, but I know it's not possible. I will have to wake up and will have to bear the consequences.

I have a decision to make.

I don't want to go on the way I did for the last few days. As much he hurt me I know he didn't meant it. I'm going to have to man up and act like an adult or run away like I did before. But after yesterday, running away is not an option anymore so former one it is.

Yesterday was-


Library..... Paul..... Slade..... Romero.... drunk..... injured....... unconscious-

Holy crap!

Everything comes back with a rush making me plunge into harsh reality.

My eyes flow open and I find myself staring in the dim version of charismatic grey eyes.

Startled, I jump, my elbow hitting the leg of the table nearby.


"Crap." I grunt in pain, closing my eyes.

Damn, it hurts.

"Are you okay?"

Hearing his voice, I stop moving altogether, all the pain vanishes in thin air.

My eyes snap wide open as gaze his conscious form.

"You are awake!" Standing up, I cry out, unable to control myself.

He winces at the sound, making me feel like crap for screaming.


He must be hungover from hell after all the drinking he has done for lord knows how long and here I am, screaming like a madwoman.

Biting my lips I walk back to the chair and make myself comfortable, well as comfortable I could be at the moment in his presence.

I play with my shirt as I try to search words I could use right now but get nothing.

I have no idea what to say to him.

What should I do?

I look at him, looking at me like he is unsure of me being here, my brain works with the words to come up with. I want say I love him. I want to ask why did he drink so much. I want to know why did he humiliated me like that. I want to ask how is he feeling. But my lips are sealed so tightly that no word comes out.

He doesn't say anything either, just stares me, as if he taking me in; as if he can't help himself; as if he is in some trance.

What is he thinking?

What does he want?

Does he

You are the best for him."

My eyes well up at the sincerity of their words. I refuse to let them fall and hold it back. I don't deserve their loyalty. Even if what they said is true, it does not change the fact I'm somewhat responsible for his condition yesterday.

Oh it's me, who don't deserves him.

My throat works as I swallow, holding the glass of water, "I love him and will do my best for him. I-I uh I'm going to take upstairs. He must be waiting."

I move past them and run for the stairs before I break down, again. I stop outside his door and take several deep breaths to compose myself. The last thing he needs is to deal with my emotional hysteria.

I finally open the door. He is in same position I left him. His body relaxes as though feeling my presence.

I hand him water that he finishes almost immediately. He really must be thirsty.

What now?

He doesn't speak either. We both don't know what to say or how to start.

It's unbearable and it is killing me.

I notice how despite reeking from alcohol he still has his unique scent around him. I wonder when was the last he showered or bathed.

"Do you want a shower?" I ask softly.

He stares at me for a long moment but doesn't say anything.

Thinking he hasn't heard me, I open my mouth to repeat but stop when he suddenly falls on his knees and wraps his arm around my torso.

What the-

"I'm sorry, Ray. I'm so fucking sorry. Please forgive me." His body trembles as he speaks.

Stunned I couldn't even response.

My beautiful Romero, my King, so proud and arrogant is on his knees begging me to forgive him.

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