Paths To Forever

The Hour Before Forever

He didn't argue.

That was the worst part.

I turned my face toward him slowly. "And yet... here we are."

He was watching the sea. Eyes distant. Dark lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, dry. "I don't think they care who we are. They only care what we look like when we stand next to each other. Two well-dressed puppets."

"Trapped on a damn island," I added.

His head tilted just slightly toward mine. "Kind of poetic, isn't it?"

I frowned. "How?"

He smirked without humor. "A beautiful prison."

That hit too hard. Too close.

I looked away, blinking hard. "Do you think it'll be like this forever?"

"What?"

"This... pretending."

He didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was quieter. "Maybe. Or maybe we'll stop pretending so well that we forget we ever hated it."

I looked at him then. Really looked.

There was something in his expression-something unfamiliar.
Not soft, not sad... but tired.
Deep down tired.
The kind that seeps into your bones when you stop fighting and just let the wave hit you.

"We're not them, you know," I said, voice catching in my throat. "We're not like our parents. We don't owe anyone this."

He looked at me. His eyes were sharper now, more alert.

"But we're still doing it."

I nodded, tears burning the back of my eyes. "Yeah. We are."

He leaned back on his hands, watching the sky. "Maybe they win."

A pause.

"Maybe we let them."

I hated how true it sounded.

I hated even more how a small, traitorous part of me wondered what came after.

What happened after the ring was on my finger.
After the fake smiles.
After we were stuck.

Would we survive it?
Would I survive it?

I dug my hands into the sand, trying to ground myself.

Then Faraz said something I wasn't expecting.

"But if we're doing this..." he murmured, "we do it our way."

I blinked. "Our way?"

He looked over at me, eyes gleaming with something reckless. "Yeah. If they want a show, fine. We'll give them one. But we write the script."

My brows furrowed. "And what does that mean?"

"It means I'm not going to stand on that stage like some lovesick idiot just because they want me to. And you... you don't have to smile through your teeth like you're thrilled to be mine."

I stared at him.

"Let them see it," he said. "Let them see the cracks."

A slow smile pulled at my lips. "So we're back to sabotage?"

"No," he said simply. "We're surrendering. But not quietly."

I tilted my head. "How poetic."

His smirk mirrored mine. "Shut up."