Make My Heart Believe a Lie

Chapter 55

✨Sunlight Stayed With Her.✨

Flora Pov

Italy didn’t leave Flora when they did.

It clung to her in quiet ways—like the way she woke up slower now, stretching instead of jerking awake. Like the way her chest didn’t tighten the second she opened her eyes. Like the way she caught herself humming while brushing her teeth, then stopping mid-note because it surprised her.

She had never hummed before.

The city apartment felt different when they returned. Still grand, still overwhelming in its size and glass and height—but warmer. Lived in. Like it knew her now. Italy had followed her home in small pieces: the silk scarf Nasir had bought her from a street vendor, the faint smell of citrus in her hair, the memory of sunlight on stone and the way he’d held her hand like it belonged there.

More than anything, it was how she felt in her own body.

She moved differently.

Less apologetic.

Less folded in on herself.

She noticed it one morning when she passed a mirror and didn’t immediately look away. She paused instead. Tilted her head. Studied herself like she might be worth knowing.

That was Nasir’s fault.

She thought of him constantly—not in the aching, panicked way she used to, but in a softer, steadier hum beneath her thoughts. The way he’d watched her in Italy. The way his attention felt heavy and grounding, like she could lean into it without falling.

And then—unexpectedly—came the jealousy.

They were out one evening, the three of them—Nasir, Flora, and Leila—at a restaurant overlooking the river. Candlelight flickered against glass and silver, the city glowing softly around them. Flora sat beside Nasir, her knee brushing his under the table, comforted by the contact.

She was laughing at something Leila said when she noticed it.

The woman.

She was sitting at the bar—tall, confident, red dress clinging in a way Flora would never dare. She hadn’t noticed her at first. Why would she? Women like that belonged to a different world. A louder one.

But the woman noticed Nasir.

Flora saw it in the way her gaze lingered. In the slow smile. In the deliberate turn of her body.

And then—worse—she walked over.

“Excuse me,” the woman said smoothly, eyes never leaving Nasir’s face. “I just wanted to say—you look dangerously handsome tonight.”

Flora froze.

Her fork paused halfway to her mouth. Her stomach dropped in a sharp, unfamiliar way.

Nasir turned slightly, polite but distant. “Thank you.”

The woman smiled wider. “I’m having a drink at the bar. If you—”

“He’s with me,” Flora blurted.

The words came out sharper than she meant. Louder too.

Both of them looked at her.

Heat flooded her face instantly. She wanted to crawl under the table. Apologize. Disappear.

The woman’s eyebrow arched, amused. “Oh?”

Flora straightened her spine before fear could bend it again. She slid her hand onto Nasir’s thigh under the table—possessive before she could stop herself.

“Yes,” she said, forcing steadiness into her voice. “He is.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Nasir laughed.

Not mockingly. Not dismissively.

Warm. Deep. Clearly entertained.

He covered Flora’s hand with his own, squeezing gently. “She’s right,” he said to the woman, eyes still on Flora now. “I am.”

Something flared in Flora’s chest—hot and wild and utterly new. Anger. Jealousy. A sharp, reckless pride.

The woman looked between them, then shrugged lightly. “Lucky you,” she said—to Flora this time—before turning away.

The moment she left, Flora’s breath came out in a rush.

“I’m sorry,” she said immediately, mortified. “That was rude. I didn’t mean to—I just—”

Nasir leaned closer, voice low. “Do not apologize.”

Leila smirked. “Oh, this is adorable.”

Flora shot her a look. “It is not.”

Nasir’s thumb brushed her knuckles under the table. “You were jealous.”

Flora’s jaw dropped. “I was not.”

“You were,” he said, smiling openly now. “And you were terrifying.”

Her cheeks burned. “I felt… angry. For no reason. She was just—standing there.”

“No,” Nasir said softly. “She was standing too close.”

Flora swallowed. “I don’t like that.”

His gaze softened, something serious settling behind the amusement. “Good.”

That startled her. “Good?”

“I like knowing you care,” he said simply. “And I like that you didn’t shrink.”

She looked down at their joined hands, emotions tumbling over each other. “I’ve never felt that before,” she admitted. “It scared me.”

Nasir leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It doesn’t scare me.”

The rest of the night, she stayed closer to him than usual—shoulder against his arm, fingers laced with his whenever she could manage it without drawing attention. He didn’t tease her. Not much. Just enough to make her roll her eyes and feel warm instead of foolish.

Later, when they were alone in the car, she finally sighed. “I got so mad,” she confessed. “I wanted her to go away.”

Nasir chuckled. “You wanted to fight her?”

“No,” Flora said quickly. Then paused. “…Maybe.”

He laughed outright then, reaching for her hand. “Italy changed you.”

She leaned her head against the window, smiling despite herself. “It changed how I feel about you.”

That quieted him.

He squeezed her hand once, grounding. “Good,” he said again.

And Flora realized—jealousy and all—that she wasn’t afraid of wanting anymore.

She was afraid of how much she already did.

---

They had barely stepped into the bedroom when Flora suddenly turned back to him.

Before Nasir could say a word, she rose onto her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him down to her. The movement was quick, almost desperate.

Her lips crashed against his.

The kiss was hot, fierce, and full of something sharp—jealousy, anger, and something far more dangerous underneath. She kissed him like she had something to prove, like she needed him to feel every ounce of the storm building inside her.

Nasir stiffened for half a second, surprised by the force of it.

Then he responded.

His hands found her waist instantly, gripping her firmly as he pulled her closer. The kiss deepened, the heat between them rising fast, her fingers curling into the back of his shirt.

Flora didn’t soften.

If anything, she pressed closer, pouring every ounce of that jealous rage into the way her mouth moved against his.

When she finally pulled back, her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling as her eyes burned into his.

Nasir studied her for a moment, a slow, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Well,” he murmured, voice low and amused, “someone’s in a mood tonight.”

Her hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, fingers trembling with urgency as she began undoing them one by one. She didn’t take her eyes off him, her breathing uneven, her chest rising and falling with the heat burning inside her.

Before the last button was even free, she grabbed the fabric and shoved it down his shoulders, pushing it off him with impatient force.

The shirt slid down his arms and fell somewhere behind him, forgotten.

Flora stood there close to him, eyes blazing, her whole body tight with emotion. She looked like a storm barely being held back—jealousy, passion, and something raw and reckless all tangled together.

She was a ball of fire inside, and Nasir could see every spark of it in her eyes.

His hand slid to the back of her dress, finding the zipper without breaking the heated look between them. Slowly, he pulled it down. The soft sound filled the quiet room as the fabric loosened and slipped from her shoulders.

The dress pooled at her feet.

For a second they simply stood there, close enough to feel each other’s breath.

Then Nasir’s hands moved to her waist. He lifted her effortlessly, and Flora let out a small breath of surprise as her arms wrapped instinctively around his neck.

He carried her the few steps to the bed.

They fell onto it together in a tangle of limbs and laughter, the mattress dipping beneath their weight. Flora landed against him, her hair spilling across his chest as she looked down at him with that same fierce fire still burning in her eyes.

Nasir’s hands settled at her back, steady and warm, holding her there as the tension between them thickened again.

He moved into her deep and slow, each stroke measured, savoring the closeness between them.

Then.

Nasir’s phone buzzed sharply against the nightstand, cutting through the quiet like a siren.

Flora froze not again, glancing at him with wide, incredulous eyes. “Now? Really?” she whispered, her voice half amusement, half annoyance.

He groaned softly, fumbling to grab it. “It’s… work,” he muttered, trying not to move too much.

“Work?” she scoffed, arms crossed like a tiny general guarding her territory. “Work can wait. I am right here!”

Her little pout was impossibly dramatic, and Nasir couldn’t help the smirk tugging at his lips. “Baby…” he started, still distracted by the buzzing phone.

“No! Don’t say anything!” she cut him off, leaning over him, hands flailing slightly as if she were physically keeping the phone away from him. “This is protected time! Protected! You can’t just—just… answer that!”

Nasir laughed softly, finally pressing the phone to silent. “Okay, okay. You’re right. Protected time it is.”

Flora gave him a triumphant grin, dropping her hands with exaggerated flair. “Good. That’s what I thought. Nobody interrupts me! Not work, not phones, not—oh, wait… did you just try to tickle me?”

And just like that, the serious tension of the moment broke, replaced by laughter and playful shoves, leaving Nasir shaking his head at the tiny whirlwind that was Flora—and secretly loving every second of it.

She was going to be his wife.