Saturday. Hotel. London, United Kingdom.
DIHA STARED AT MILES.
Had she heard him right?
She replayed that moment in her head, focusing on the way his lips moved.
I love you.
The words rang inside of her, giving freedom to the fragile hope she'd been ignoring for days.
He stroked her hair, such a normal action that anchored her.
She was staring. The silence stretching on. She had to say something, but how did she respond to, I love you?
Diha settled on the truth. "I don't know what to say."
He picked up her hand, kissed her fingers then said, "You don't have to say anything."
"I should."
"You asked me a question. I gave you an honest reply. That's it."
"You just told me you loved me." Her insides quivered. Now she'd said it out loud, too.
That had really happened.
He continued to gently stroke her shoulder, back and side in long sweeps. "So?"
"That's... That's kind of a big deal." She pushed up, propping herself on her elbow.