CHAPTER 179: WHEN LOVE TREMBLES

Taking a deep breath, Julie looked at him.

The dim golden light from the bedside lamp traced Roman’s sharp features — his jaw tight, lashes resting against his skin, beads of sweat still clinging to his temples.

Even though his breathing had steadied, she knew, deep down, what his body desperately needed.

Her own heartbeat felt heavy in her chest, each thud echoing in her ears as if urging her forward and warning her at the same time.

She could hear the hum of the air conditioner and the faint rhythm of his breathing, deep and uneven.

Her trembling fingers reached for the zipper of her dress.

The cold metal brushed her skin, and a shiver rippled through her — not from fear alone, but from the weight of what she was about to do.

Her lips parted slightly as she exhaled, the breath trembling like her resolve.

Closing her eyes, Julie drew in a slow breath, her lashes damp against her cheeks.

Then, with delicate care, she pulled the zipper down. The faint hiss of metal unfastening broke the silence.

Her dress loosened around her shoulders, the silky fabric sliding down her arms before collapsing soundlessly to the floor.

The air that touched her was sharp and cold; it licked her bare skin like ice, making goosebumps bloom along her arms.

She wrapped her arms around herself instinctively for a moment, feeling the rise and fall of her own chest.

The room suddenly felt too quiet — the kind of silence that makes a person aware of every heartbeat, every flicker of breath.

Roman lay on the bed, eyes closed, his expression taut as though waging a battle inside himself.

His chest moved with the rhythm of slow, restrained breaths.

Julie’s gaze lingered on him — the man who had once looked untouchable now looked helpless, his strength trembling beneath the surface.

Her feet moved before her mind caught up. The faint thud of her steps on the carpet seemed impossibly loud.

She took one, two, three steps closer — each one making the air between them heavier.

She climbed onto the bed, her knees sinking softly into the mattress.

The faint dip beneath her weight made the sheets ripple, and Roman’s body tensed almost imperceptibly, as if he could feel the shift even without looking.

Her fingers trembled—delicate, uncertain—as she reached toward the sleeve of his shirt.

The button glinted faintly under the soft light filtering through the curtains, and for a moment, her reflection shimmered in his cufflink like a ghost of her own hesitation.

Roman’s eyes remained closed, his lashes trembling slightly against his skin.

His breathing came slow but strained, as though every breath carried the effort of restraint.

His jaw flexed, the muscles along his neck tightening with the struggle to control whatever storm raged inside him.

"Please..." he breathed, his voice low and rough, like a whisper dragged through gravel. "Let it be, Julie. Just—walk out. I’ll be alright."

His words cracked faintly at the edges, betraying a pain that wasn’t physical.

Julie froze, her chest rising and falling in shallow, trembling breaths.

For a second, the room seemed to fall utterly still—the steady hum of the air conditioner, the faint ticking of the wall clock, even the sound of their breathing seemed suspended in air.

Her hand hovered in midair, trembling as though the weight of his voice had rooted her there.

But she didn’t pull away. Her fingers lowered slowly until they brushed against the fabric of his shirt.

The faint warmth of his skin seeped through the thin layer of cloth, sparking a fragile shiver that ran through her arm.

The instant she touched him, Roman’s breath hitched. His eyes flew open, the storm in them unveiled—and for a moment, time fractured.

The sight that met him sent a sharp, aching pang through his chest. Her hair, loose and disheveled, framed her face like a halo.

The faint blush on her cheeks glowed under the dim light.

Her eyes—filled with uncertainty, fear, and something deeper—looked up at him with a silent plea that tore him apart.

Oh no... the thought struck him like lightning, silent but shattering. Why is what I feared happening?

He stared at her, his breath catching somewhere between disbelief and yearning.

Her hands, small and trembling, were still on his shirt.

Her lips parted slightly as if to say something, but no words came out—only the soft exhale of someone standing on the edge of something irreversible.

Another voice echoed in the back of his mind, darker and quieter, tempting.

’She’s your wife.’

’She’s offering herself.

You love her. It’s only right...’ a voice whispered in his head.

Roman chest tightened painfully. His heart thudded against his ribs, loud enough that he was sure she could hear it.

He wanted her—he always had—but not like this. Not in a moment driven by desperation or guilt.

He clenched his jaw, every muscle in his body coiled in restraint.

Julie’s eyes flickered toward his face, searching for something she couldn’t quite name.

His silence was heavy, pressing down on her. Her throat tightened as she whispered, "Roman..."

He flinched slightly, as if the sound of his name on her trembling lips was a touch all its own.

He looked at her, his eyes dark and unreadable, but she saw the conflict flickering there—the war between wanting and holding back.

Her fingers fumbled with the button at his wrist, the faint click echoing like a heartbeat between them.

She didn’t look up at him, but the slight tremor in her hands betrayed her nervousness.

Her breath brushed against his arm as she leaned closer, and the warmth of her skin mingled with the faint chill of the air-conditioned room.

Roman’s hand moved suddenly, catching her wrist—not rough, not forceful, but firm enough to stop her.

His fingers wrapped around her hand, and the heat of his touch sent a jolt through her veins.

"Love..." His voice was low, pained.

His thumb brushed the back of her hand unconsciously, a tender gesture that contradicted the firmness of his grip.

"Please don’t do this if you don’t want to. You know I’ll never force you."

The sincerity in his voice broke her.

Julie’s lips trembled as her gaze met his.

There was no anger, no rejection—only an ache so deep it made her chest tighten.

She raised her free hand, and with a gentleness that silenced him, pressed her index finger against his lips.

"Shh..." she whispered. The sound was soft, fragile, but it carried a quiet strength.

Roman froze, his breath mingling with hers in the small space between them.

Her eyes lowered, shy and uncertain, but her voice steadied as she continued, "It’s been long since we got married... I think it’s time we consummate our marriage. Don’t you... want to?"

The last words left her lips barely above a whisper.

Her cheeks flushed crimson as her gaze dropped to the sheets, her fingers still resting lightly against his mouth.

She didn’t dare look at him—afraid of what she might see, afraid of her own boldness.

Roman’s throat constricted. He could feel her trembling through the small distance that separated them, and yet there was a quiet bravery in her closeness—a tenderness that made his heart ache.

He wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, he reached up, his hand hesitating midway before gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

His fingers lingered near her cheek, tracing the faint warmth of her blush.

Julie’s breath caught. Her eyelids fluttered as she leaned slightly into his touch—barely, but enough for him to feel the silent answer she couldn’t voice.

He looked at her then, really looked. The soft quiver of her lips, the flicker of nerves in her eyes, the fragile strength beneath her trembling composure.

His heart thudded once, hard, before he spoke.

"Julie..." His voice was hoarse, rough with emotion. "You have no idea what you do to me."

Her lashes lifted, eyes meeting his at last.

The world around them blurred—the ticking clock, the hum of the air, even the faint city lights seeping through the curtains.

All that remained was the sound of their unsteady breathing and the quiet space between them, charged with something too sacred to name.

Without thinking, Roman leaned forward slightly, his forehead almost brushing hers. Her breath mingled with his—soft, warm, uncertain.

And in that suspended moment, nothing else existed but the fragile, trembling thread of love that held them both still—half afraid to break it, half yearning to surrender to it completely.

Authors thought.

Love, in its truest form, isn’t always loud. Sometimes it trembles. It hesitates. It breaks before it heals.

Julie’s act was not born from desire alone—it was born from a quiet, aching devotion.

A woman who had been abandoned by the world had finally found someone who looked at her as though she was something worth protecting.

And now, when that same man lay helpless, caught between agony and control, she wanted—no, needed—to protect him in return.

There is a kind of intimacy that goes beyond touch—the kind that lives in a glance, in a whispered word, in the way two hearts ache for each other’s safety.

That was what existed between them now.

Roman’s restraint was not rejection, but reverence.

He could have yielded to his pain, to his longing—but instead, he held her heart with gentleness, even when his own body screamed otherwise.

That is the difference between a man who desires and a man who loves.

And perhaps that is why fate had bound these two souls together—to teach them that love isn’t always about possession, but about the strength it takes to pause when your heart demands otherwise.