Roman and Julienne's heart desire
Chapter 36: They will wish that they have delete themselves

Chapter 36: They will wish that they have delete themselves

Julie sat quietly beside Roman, her fingers fidgeting nervously in her lap.

She shifted slightly, adjusting the headrest of the bed, subtly putting a little space between them.

It was a small gesture—one that might have gone unnoticed by anyone else—but Roman caught it.

His eyes narrowed, and a slow smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

But the smile didn’t last. In a heartbeat, his expression shifted, and without warning, he closed the gap she had just created.

The suddenness of his movement caught Julie off guard, and she gasped softly.

One moment there was space, and in the next, there was none.

Her wide eyes stared into his as he leaned in, his face descending ever so slowly toward hers.

Her breath hitched when he gently hooked a finger beneath her chin, lifting her face to meet his gaze.

Time seemed to stretch, the air between them thick with unspoken emotion.

Then, he kissed her.

It was soft at first—tentative. But quickly, the kiss deepened, growing more passionate, like fire catching onto dry leaves.

Julie’s heart pounded in her chest, loud and fierce, like a drum in her ears.

When he pulled back, Roman looked into her eyes, his voice low but direct.

"Did you enjoy it?"

Julie blinked, her thoughts scattered, still tangled in the sensation of his lips.

She hadn’t fully heard the question and murmured a distracted "Uhm..."

Roman leaned closer again, brushing a thumb along her cheek. "Did you like it?" he asked, his voice steady, without urgency.

Julie’s cheeks burned, and she quickly lowered her gaze, unable to meet his eyes.

"I... I don’t know," she whispered, her voice barely louder than her own heartbeat.

He could hear her breathing, could see the way her chest rose and fell with the rhythm of emotion.

Her hands trembled slightly in her lap.

Roman tilted his head, watching her with a gaze that was both cold and tender.

"I know it’s your first time," he said quietly, his voice softer now, more intimate.

Julie slowly lifted her eyes, and when their gazes met again, it was like time stood still.

His stare pierced through her, searching, reading emotions she wasn’t ready to voice.

And then, suddenly, he pulled her into his arms.

Her head rested on his chest, and he held her gently, protectively.

One hand stroked her hair with a tenderness that made her eyes sting with unshed tears.

"I’m here," he said, his voice low and soothing. "Don’t worry. Everything will be alright."

Julie stayed in his arms for a moment, savoring the warmth and comfort.

But then, like a flicker of reality breaking through a dream, she pulled away.

She moved back, putting distance between them once more.

Roman’s heart sank at the gesture.

His brows drew together, his eyes narrowing, this time not with desire, but confusion.

And suspicion.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, watching her as she struggled to calm the storm in her chest.

She couldn’t look at him. Her eyes dropped to the floor, her fingers clasping each other tightly.

"You know we shouldn’t be doing that," she whispered, her voice trembling.

The weight of her words hung in the air, heavy and uncertain.

Roman didn’t speak immediately. He watched her, trying to understand what she was feeling—what had shifted so suddenly in her.

And though her words pushed him away, his heart reached for her still.

Roman’s gaze remained fixed on her, unreadable, a thousand thoughts storming behind his calm eyes.

The distance between them now felt like a chasm, cold and final.

"You think we shouldn’t have done that?" he asked, his voice still low, but the warmth had dimmed, replaced by something cooler—something cautious.

Julie swallowed hard, still not looking up. "I just... it’s not that I didn’t want to. It’s just..." she trailed off, searching for the right words. Her voice wavered, fragile. "It feels too fast. Too soon."

Roman was quiet for a moment. The silence was thick, stretching between them like fog.

"Julie," he finally said, "do you regret it?"

She lifted her eyes slowly, meeting his gaze.

And for the first time, she saw the vulnerability there, the unspoken question beneath his composed exterior—Was I wrong about you?

"No," she whispered. "I don’t regret it. But I’m scared." Before she could be able to take a breath Roman talked.

"Of me?" he asked, his jaw tightening slightly.

"No," she said quickly. "Not you. I’m scared of... what this means. What I’m feeling. How quickly things are changing. I’m scared that if we go too far, too fast, we might lose something before we even have a chance to understand it."

Julie said with a frown on her face as if she will cry in the next second.

Roman nodded slowly, absorbing every word.

He leaned back, exhaling deeply, his hand running through his hair. For a moment, he said nothing.

Then he stood up, walked to the window, and pulled the curtains aside just slightly.

Moonlight filtered into the room, casting soft shadows on the floor. "Do you think I don’t feel the same?" he asked, still facing the glass.

"I didn’t plan any of this either, Julie. You came into my life and turned it upside down."

She looked at him, startled by the quiet intensity in his voice.

"I don’t want to rush you," he said his voice low and magnetic.

finally turning back to face her. "But I also can’t pretend I don’t want to be close to you. I meant that kiss. Every second of it."

Julie’s heart thudded harder. His honesty, his restraint—it made her want to cry.

"I just need time," she said, standing now, her voice steadier.

Roman took a step toward her. "Then take it. I’ll be here."

The sincerity in his voice wrapped around her like a blanket. It was a promise. A reassurance. Not a demand.

And in that moment, Julie felt something shift. Not in fear, but in trust.

Maybe they were both figuring this out.

Maybe it didn’t need to be perfect—just real.

She gave him a small, trembling smile. "Thank you."

He reached out gently, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Don’t thank me. Just don’t run away."

"I’m not," she said softly. "I’m just learning how to stay."

Roman nodded, then stepped back, giving her space—not just physically, but emotionally.

And for the first time that night, the space between them didn’t feel like a wall.

It felt like a doorway.

The soft hum of conversation died down the moment Rachel stormed into the student lounge.

Her walk was brisk, purposeful, and full of rage.

Students glanced up from their coffee cups and breakfast trays, sensing the storm brewing in her expression.

Rachel’s eyes were wild with disbelief as she scrolled furiously through her phone.

Her fingers moved with desperate speed, refreshing, reloading, digging through notifications—but finding nothing.

Nothing.

She slammed her phone face-down on the table, earning a few startled looks.

Her friends—Ava, Mia, and Cam—were already gathered, mid-conversation, but they fell silent at her arrival.

"What happened?" Mia asked carefully.

Rachel didn’t answer right away. Instead, she let out a bitter laugh—cold, sharp, and echoing.

"It’s gone," she spat.

Ava leaned forward. "What’s gone?"

"The post," Rachel said through gritted teeth. "The one I worked on for hours.

The one that was already gaining traction.

The photo that would’ve shown everyone exactly who Julie really is."

Mia blinked. "You mean the one you posted last night?"

"Yes! And now it’s not just gone from my account—it’s gone from the entire platform. Deleted. Wiped clean. As if it never existed!"

Cam frowned. "Maybe it was reported and taken down?"

Rachel’s laugh this time was humorless.

"It was posted from an untraceable account. Encrypted. Not even my name tied to it. It should’ve been untouchable. Someone found it and made it disappear like that—" she snapped her fingers, "—and I have no idea how."

She stood, pacing like a lioness in a cage, her heels clicking furiously. Her frustration crackled in the air like static.

"This isn’t just about the photo. Someone’s watching. Someone’s protecting her."

Her eyes darted across the room, briefly landing on a group of students whispering and glancing her way.

Rachel’s voice dropped, low and dangerous. "Whoever did it didn’t just take down a post. They challenged me."

Ava shifted uncomfortably. "So what now?"

Rachel turned to her, eyes dark with fury and something colder—calculated vengeance.

"Now? I find out who did it," she said. "And when I do, they’ll wish they deleted themselves instead."

The soft rustle of sheets and the gentle hum of birdsong drifted through the quiet beautiful mansion.

Morning light filtered through the curtains in golden streaks, dancing across the surface of the plush bed where Julie stirred.

She blinked slowly, still drowsy, surrounded by warmth—more than just the comfort of the bed.

Her head rested against Roman’s chest, the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat like a lullaby she hadn’t wanted to leave.

His arm was draped loosely around her waist, his hand resting just over her hip. She didn’t dare move.

He was still asleep, his breathing even and peaceful.

In sleep, his sharp features softened, his usual intensity gone, replaced by a calm she rarely saw when his eyes were open.

He looked... serene. Almost boyish.

Julie blushed as the memory of the night before rushed back to her.

When she went t back to her floor blanket bed to sleep,Roman had looked offended.

"There’s no way you’re sleeping anywhere but the bed," he had said firmly. "You’ll freeze on the floor."

Looked at the person who said she should sleep on the bed now he is the one saying this? I doubt so.

"But we can’t both—" she had started.

"Come," Roman said stretching his hand out for her.

"I’m not made of stone, Julie," he’d interrupted, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I can behave. Trust me."

Julie carefully stretch out her hand and put it in his.

So, they’d shared the bed. But what she hadn’t expected was for him to hold her like that gently, protectively, like she was something fragile he didn’t want to lose.

And she hadn’t expected how right it felt.

Now, awake in his arms, she was caught somewhere between bliss and panic.

Every inch of her body was aware of him—the warmth of his skin, the faint scent of his cologne still clinging to the sheets.

She tried to slip out quietly, careful not to wake him, but the second she moved, his grip tightened ever so slightly.

"Julie," he murmured, his voice husky from sleep.

She froze.

"You’re warm. Stay," he mumbled.

Her heart did a somersault.