Her lips part in disbelief, letting shock mar her beautiful face, which glints in the dim light of the room with exhaustion. A sting lands on my arms, which are clamped around her waist. I let her slap me while I observe the anger flickering in her eyes. When she realizes I am ignoring her good words, she cries out, "Don't talk to me." Pushing away my arms, she wriggles free and moves to the edge of the bed, sleeping with her back to me.
A smile of amusement coats my lips. I prop myself on my elbows before pulling her back to me by her waist. She doesn't protest, letting me pull her until her bare back is pressed against me. The sheet is clutched to her chest, her eyes forced closed. Her hair is sprawled on the pillow, some on my chest. I tuck her under my chin, my arms enveloping her in my embrace. "Why would you still think I hate you?"
She doesn't reply, pretending to be lying like a dead log. A chuckle bubbles out of my lips. My finger skimps from her waist to her breast, reaching the soft mold to squeeze it over the sheet. Another sharp sting lands on my hand. This time hard but she pretends how her back was not arched with her hips pressed to mine. I squeeze the nipple, hearing a moan out of her. 
"Because you never told me that you love me."
"Hence, you assume that I still cling to my nonexistent hate," my voice is rough.
"You never voiced it out." Her voice is distinct, holding a mumbling whisper. "You don't hate me."
"I don't hate you." I never did.
"Even after knowing what I did?"
I can't see her face but can imagine the sadness it might reflect. "Not even after that."
"You love me," she asks.
I whisper, "I do."
Her fingers run along the veins of her hands. "What if someday you don't love me anymore? What if someday you realize that your love for me is fading away? What if someday you don't want me? What if someday you grow tired of waiting for me?" When it gets heavy for her, she pauses to blow a breath. "What if someday you unlove me?"
Am I ready to lose her again? No. "Which day are you talking about?"
Her fingers stop drawing imaginary circles on my hands. "Someday, in the future."
"Like the 30th of February?"
"It doesn't exist," she replies tersely.
I smile, kissing her head. "There is your answer. That someday doesn't exist."
"What if someday the 30th of February starts existing on the calendar?" I chuckle at her imaginary what-ifs. She is the epitome of overthinking.
"When that day comes, ask me on the 30th of February whether there was ever a day in the past when Reyansh regretted being in love with his lady. If he says yes, kill him. If he says no, kiss him hard."
She chuckles. "Then I'll just pray that day never comes."
"Never. Reyansh is Kiraz's. Kiraz is Reyansh's. Two bodies, one soul."
We stay like that, soaking in each other's warmth. When she breaks the silence again, "Reyansh,"
I hum in response, my eyes closed.
"We aren't over, right?" she questions.
"No," I answer her.
"When everything settles, let's go on a date. By the beachside. Just you and me. And nobody else. I will dress in your favorite color. In red. You will wear a tuxedo. We will walk by the beach."
"Okay," But why do I feel this is leading somewhere I don't want it to go? Somewhere I dread the most.
Silence settles once again. "Don't get tired of waiting for me."