Shatter-Me-PDF-Shatter-Me-Series-Shatter-Me-Shatter-Me-1-Tahereh-Mafi (1)

shape of my chin when I see a movement in the corner of
my eye.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says to me.
I’m pink and red and maroon all at once. I duck my head
and trip away from the mirror only to have him catch me in
his arms. “I’d forgotten my own face,” I whisper.
“Just don’t forget who you are,” he says.
“I don’t even know.”
“Yes you do.” He tilts my face up. “I do.”
I stare at the strength in his jaw, in his eyes, in his body. I
try to understand the confidence he has in who he thinks I
am and realize his reassurance is the only thing stopping
me from diving into a pool of my own insanity. He’s always
believed in me. Even soundlessly, silently, he fought for me.
Always.
He’s my only friend.
I take his hand and hold it to my lips. “I’ve loved you
forever,” I tell him.
The sun rises, rests, shines in his face and he almost
smiles, almost can’t meet my eyes. His muscles relax, his
shoulders find relief in the weight of a new kind of wonder
and he exhales. He touches my cheek, touches my lips,
touches the tip of my chin and I blink and he’s kissing me,
he’s pulling me into his arms and into the air and somehow
we’re on the bed and tangled in each other and I’m drugged
with emotion, drugged by each tender moment. His fingers
skim my shoulder, trail down my silhouette, rest at my hips.
He pulls me closer, whispers my name, drops kisses down
my throat and struggles with the stiff fabric of my dress. His
hands are shaking so slightly, his eyes brimming with
feeling, his heart thrumming with pain and affection and I
want to live here, in his arms, in his eyes for the rest of my
life.
I slip my hands under his shirt and he chokes on a moan
that turns into a kiss that needs me and wants me and has
to have me so desperately it’s like the most acute form of