Make My Heart Believe a Lie

Chapter 49

✨Marked and Seen.✨

Flora Pov

Flora stood in front of the bathroom mirror with a towel wrapped under her arms, steam still clinging to the glass like soft clouds. She wiped a clear circle with her palm and blinked at the girl looking back.

Her lips looked fuller than usual. Or maybe she was just noticing them for the first time.

She smiled experimentally. The girl in the mirror smiled too—wide, almost surprised.

“Who are you?” Flora whispered.

Then, without permission, Nasir wandered into her thoughts.

The way he said her name.

The way his hand rested at the small of her back like it belonged there.

Her stomach did a strange little flip. Warmth crept up her neck and down her arms, quick and embarrassing. She pressed both hands to her cheeks.

“Oh no,” she muttered. “Absolutely not. We are not doing this right now.”

Her reflection did not listen.

Before she could overthink herself into hiding under the bed for the rest of her natural life, Flora darted into the closet like she was escaping a crime scene.

The closet stared back at her—rows of sensible dresses, a few hopeful tops, and one very optimistic section of lingerie she had bought during moments of bravery and clearly temporary insanity.

She grabbed the first set.

Too frilly.

She looked like a confused cupcake.

“No.”

The second was black and mysterious. She turned sideways.

“Who am I trying to be—secret agent of romance?”

Off it went.

The third was soft pink. Sweet. Innocent. Possibly something a well-behaved teacup would wear.

“Nasir will think I’m applying to be his little cousin,” she groaned.

Flora rummaged deeper, tossing things over her shoulder like a woman digging for buried treasure. A sock flew past her ear. Something with ribbons tried to strangle her wrist.

“This is ridiculous,” she whispered, half laughing, half panicking. “He has seen me cry over burnt bread and trip over a chair. Why am I auditioning to be a professional goddess?”

She held up another set and studied it like a serious business decision.

“Okay,” she told the empty room. “Elegant. Not desperate. Confident but casual. Casual confidence. Confidently casual.”

The hanger snapped and hit her on the nose.

“Rude.”

Finally she chose something simple, soft, almost brave. She stared at herself again, heart fluttering like it had opinions of its own.

“What if he doesn’t even notice?” she whispered.

“What if he does?”

Both possibilities made her equally nervous.

Flora took a steadying breath, trying to calm the wild, hopeful feeling dancing under her skin.

“Perfect,” she murmured, though she wasn’t sure if she meant the lingerie—or the man waiting somewhere on the other side of her courage.

Flora stood in the bedroom doorway, the soft light catching the delicate fabric she wore. She wasn’t sure how to hold herself, fingers twisting nervously at her waist. Her heart thumped in her chest like it was trying to escape, every instinct telling her to run, hide, or disappear altogether.

She wasn’t doing this to repay him. Not to make up for the gifts, the dinners, the careful attention he’d given her. She wasn’t trying to buy back anything. She did it because she missed him. She wanted him, even after a week apart, even after every moment he’d been gone. She wanted to be close to him, to feel his presence near her, even if the words “I want you” were too far beyond her comfort.

Her conversations with Leila replayed in her mind—the teasing, the gentle instruction, the talks about confidence, about what it meant to share herself with someone. She’d listened, she’d laughed, she’d felt encouraged—but the knowledge didn’t erase the trembling inside her. The truth was, she didn’t know how to do this. She didn’t know how to act, how to move, how to let herself give in without fear. She was aware of every beat of her heart, every shiver that raced along her skin, every pulse of longing she couldn’t name.

When Nasir stepped into the room, all those thoughts collided into one panicked awareness. Her body remembered him—the warmth of his hands, the intensity of his gaze, the way he had kissed her with a careful restraint that made her ache. Her legs felt weak, her fingers cold, and a swirl of emotions—desire, fear, and that small flicker of bravery—twisted her stomach into knots.

He didn’t rush toward her. He didn’t grab her, didn’t force a single inch of closeness. He simply stopped, just far enough away to let her pull back if she needed to, and his eyes softened as he studied her.

Flora practiced her face before she opened the door.

Neutral.

Calm.

Normal human woman who had not just sprinted through a closet like it was on fire.

She nodded at her reflection. “You’re fine,” she whispered. “You are simply a person.”

The door opened.

And Flora immediately forgot how legs worked.

Her brain stalled somewhere between oh and this was a terrible idea. Her heart did a small, reckless leap. She took one step forward, caught her toe on absolutely nothing, and had to grab the doorframe to steady herself.

Smooth. Incredibly smooth.

“Hi,” she said, voice cracking on the single syllable.

Nasir’s brow furrowed just a little. “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” she blurted. Too fast. Too loud. “Very fine. Extremely… fine.”

She walked toward him with what she hoped was confidence and what was, in reality, a cautious shuffle. She folded her arms, then immediately unfolded them because that felt suspicious. Then she tucked her hair behind her ear. Then she realized she’d tucked the same piece of hair behind her ear three times.

Nasir watched her like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t want to rush.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” she said, nodding too much. “No. I mean—yes. I just… showers are… wet.”

He stared at her.

She winced. “That made sense in my head.”

A corner of his mouth twitched.

Flora reached the counter and leaned against it, trying to look casual. The effort lasted exactly two seconds before she knocked over a spoon.

She froze.

Nasir picked it up without a word, setting it back down. When he looked at her again, his expression had softened into something dangerously fond.

“You’re nervous,” he said.

“No,” she lied instantly.

His eyes dropped—not lingering, not obvious, just enough to notice. When they returned to her face, something warm and knowing passed through them.

“Flora,” he said quietly, like he was grounding her, “you don’t have to perform for me.”

Her shoulders sagged in relief she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“I know,” she admitted, cheeks heating. “I just… wanted to be normal.”

He stepped closer—not crowding, just close enough that she could feel his presence, solid and steady.

“You are,” he said. “This is normal for you.”

She huffed a small laugh. “I’m a disaster.”

He shook his head. “You’re honest.”

She finally looked up at him fully, eyes bright, a little shy. “I tried really hard not to be weird.”

Nasir smiled then—slow, genuine, unmistakably charmed.

“You failed,” he said. “Badly.”

She groaned, covering her face. “I knew it.”

He gently moved her hands away, his thumbs brushing her knuckles. “But I liked it.”

Her heart stumbled.

“Oh,” she said softly.

And in that moment, Flora stopped trying to be anything else—because the way he looked at her made it feel like she was already enough.

“I—” she tried to speak again, her voice small. “I… I don’t know how to—”

“You don’t have to know,” Nasir said gently, the words low and steady, like a promise. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Her chest heaved, and she blinked back tears she hadn’t realized had formed. “I… I just… I missed you,” she admitted, the words barely above a whisper. “I wanted to… I wanted to be close… but I’m scared.”

“I know,” he said, brushing his knuckles along her jaw, grounding her. “I know you’re scared. That’s why you’re not giving yourself to me because you think you have to. You’re doing it because you want to be here. That’s all that matters.”

She let out a shaky laugh, nerves and relief mingling. “I don’t even know what I’m doing,” she admitted. “I’ve never… I mean… I’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t even know if I can…”

Nasir tilted his head, studying her with a mixture of amusement and deep, careful adoration. “Then we’ll do it together,” he said softly. “Slow. Careful. We take our time. Nothing you can’t handle.”

Her breath hitched at his words. He wasn’t demanding. He wasn’t rushing. He was giving her the control she desperately wanted to keep, even though every nerve in her body screamed to surrender.

She stepped closer on trembling legs, and he didn’t move away. When she finally let her hand brush against his chest, she felt the steady strength there, the unshakable certainty that he would not hurt her, not ever.

“I want you,” she whispered again, not in repayment, not in obligation, but because she truly did. “I just… I don’t know if I can…”

Nasir pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, letting it linger. “Baby,” he murmured, “I’ll guide you. You don’t have to know. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you, and that’s more than enough.”

Her tears came then—soft, unashamed, a mixture of relief, longing, and the tiniest spark of courage. She felt his arms wrap around her slowly, securely, letting her tremble into him without fear.

She realized, in that moment, that she didn’t need to know how. She just needed him. And he would stay, patient, careful, and unrelenting in his devotion.