Chapter 40

A/N: I got to say, I am enjoying the guessing game that is happening in the comment section, I am starting to feel that this is pretty little liars season 1

Who is A?

Olivia's POV

The weight of everything I’d been holding inside for so long finally broke as I stood in Zoya’s apartment, the familiar scent of her filling the air, grounding me and tearing me apart all at once.

She stood across from me, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes—those dark, searching eyes—watched me with a mix of exhaustion and something else. Something that looked a lot like surrender.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” I whispered, my voice raw, hoarse from crying. “I just—”

“Of course you don’t,” Zoya cut in, her tone sharper than I expected. “You never do.”

I flinched, her words slicing through me like a blade. “That’s not fair.”

Zoya let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “Isn’t it? You come to me when things fall apart, Olivia. When Elijah leaves, when the rumors get too loud, when you can’t handle the truth. And I let you.”

Her voice cracked on the last words, and something inside me shattered.

“I never meant to hurt you,” I choked out.

Zoya’s eyes flashed. “But you did.”

I swallowed hard, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. “I didn’t choose this, Zoya. I didn’t wake up one day and decide to fall in love with you.”

Her breath hitched, and for the first time, her mask cracked. “Then what do you want from me, Olivia?” she whispered, stepping closer, anger and longing swirling together in her voice. “Because I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being the person you run to when it’s convenient for you.”

Tears burned in my eyes, and I took a shaky step toward her. “I don’t want to run anymore.” My voice trembled, but I held her gaze, forcing myself to stay grounded in the moment. “I love you, Zoya. I’ve been so scared of it, of what it means, but I—”

She shook her head, stepping back, her hands trembling. “Don’t say it unless you mean it.”

“I do,” I whispered desperately, stepping closer until I was inches away. “I love you, and I hate myself for how long it took me to admit it.”

Zoya stared at me, her expression torn between anger and heartbreak. “Then why didn’t you fight for me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I reached out hesitantly, my fingers brushing against hers. “Because I was scared of losing everything. My marriage, my career... but none of it means anything if I don’t have you.”

For a long moment, she didn’t move. Then, slowly, her fingers laced with mine, and I felt the dam inside me break completely.

“I love you too,” she finally admitted, her voice filled with so much pain it nearly undid me. “But love isn’t enough, Olivia. Not if you keep running.”

I shook my head vehemently. “No more running.”

Zoya let out a shaky breath, her eyes searching mine, and for the first time, I saw something other than pain in them. Hope.

She pulled me into her arms, and I collapsed against her, my sobs muffled against her shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, clinging to her. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

Her hands tightened around me, holding me like she was afraid to let go. “We’ll figure it out,” she murmured. “Together.”

I pulled away slightly, brushing my hand over her face, memorizing every line, every curve. “Together,” I echoed.

Zoya's POV

The weight of Olivia’s confession still lingered between us, thick and heavy with years of longing and unspoken truths. She stood in front of me, her eyes searching mine for reassurance—for something I wasn’t sure I could give. But when she whispered those words again, soft and full of a vulnerability that made my heart ache, I knew I couldn’t pull away anymore.

“I love you, Zoya.”

It wasn’t just words this time. It was everything—the way she trembled as she said it, the way her lips parted like she was afraid to breathe too loudly, as if she’d shatter the fragile moment between us.

I reached for her, my fingertips ghosting over her jaw before cupping her face fully. “Say it again,” I murmured, my voice thick with emotion.

Her breath hitched. “I love you.”

A soft sigh escaped me as I leaned in, pressing my forehead against hers. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that.”

She let out a shaky laugh, her hands coming up to grasp mine. “I’m sorry it took me this long.”

I pulled back just enough to look at her, tracing the outline of her face with my eyes, memorizing every inch of her—Olivia Lopez, the woman who had held my heart in the palm of her hand for far too long. “We have tonight,” I whispered, “and I don’t want to waste it.”

Her lips trembled, and then she kissed me—soft at first, tentative, like she was still afraid this might slip through her fingers if she wasn’t careful. But when I deepened the kiss, sliding my hands into her hair, I felt her melt into me, surrendering to everything we’d held back for so long.

Olivia's POV

Kissing Zoya felt like coming home. Every touch, every gentle press of her lips against mine, erased the months—no, years—of hesitation, of fear. I let myself get lost in her, in the way she held me like she never wanted to let go.

My hands traced the lines of her back, desperate to feel her, to ground myself in the reality of this moment. She sighed into my mouth, and the sound alone made my knees weak.

Zoya pulled back, her eyes dark with emotion, her fingertips grazing my cheek. “Are you sure?”

I swallowed, pressing my forehead against hers. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

A soft smile tugged at her lips before she kissed me again, deeper this time, more sure of herself. We moved together in sync, slowly, like we had all the time in the world. My pulse quickened as her hands found the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head and letting it fall to the floor.

The cool air hit my skin, but I wasn’t cold. Not with Zoya looking at me like that—like I was everything she’d ever wanted.

I reached for her sweater, pulling it off, my fingertips skimming the soft skin of her shoulders. “You’re beautiful,” I murmured, brushing my lips along her jawline.

She exhaled shakily, her arms wrapping around me as she pulled me closer, her lips trailing down my neck, making me shiver. “I love you,” she whispered against my skin, and I felt it like a prayer.

We moved to the bed in a blur of limbs and soft gasps, the world outside fading until it was just us—just our quiet breaths and the warmth of her hands against mine.

She laid me down on the bed, her body pressing gently against mine as she climbed on top of me. Her lips curled into a soft, knowing smile—one that made my heart race and my breath catch. She could see the nervous anticipation in my eyes, and I knew she wanted to take her time to savour every moment.

Her fingertips ghosted over my skin, tracing delicate patterns that sent shivers cascading through me. My body arched instinctively under her touch, every nerve alight with desire and longing.

When her lips found the curve of my neck, she kissed me slowly, torturously, each press of her mouth a whisper of promise. My fingers slid into her hair, gripping softly as I exhaled her name in a breathless moan.

"Zoya..."

She responded with a low hum against my skin, her hands gripping the back of my thighs, pulling me closer until I could feel the heat of her body between my legs. Her deliberate pace was driving me mad, every touch sending a fresh wave of need surging through me.

It was too slow. Too controlled. I needed more.

With a sudden burst of desperation, I shifted beneath her, flipping us over in one fluid motion. Now, straddling her waist, I gazed down at her, breathless and aching, ready to take what I needed.

Zoya looked up at me, her dark eyes heavy with desire and something deeper—something that made my pulse quicken. Her hands found my hips, fingers pressing into my skin with a gentle but firm grip, as if anchoring herself to the moment.

I traced a slow line down her chest, my touch deliberate, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her breath beneath my fingertips. My lips hovered just above hers, teasing, letting the anticipation build between us like an unspoken promise.

"You’re driving me crazy," she murmured, her voice husky and laced with need.

A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips. "Good."

Leaning down, I kissed her—slow at first, tasting, exploring, feeling the way she melted beneath me. But as the tension coiled tighter, the kiss deepened, turning more urgent, more desperate.

Zoya’s hands slid up my back, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. The warmth of her skin, the way she fit perfectly against me, sent sparks rushing through my veins.

She rolled her hips beneath me, a soft moan escaping her lips, and I gasped at the sensation, my resolve slipping. My hands found their way to the hem of her shirt, lifting it slowly, savouring every inch of newly exposed skin.

"You’re beautiful," I whispered, my voice trembling as I took her in.

Zoya’s eyes softened, a rare vulnerability flickering across her face before she pulled me down again, our bodies pressing together in a perfect, aching fit. Her lips traced a path down my jawline, across my collarbone, leaving fire in their wake.

"Olivia..." she whispered against my skin, her voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I closed my eyes, losing myself in the feeling, the moment, the overwhelming sense of being wanted, of being seen.

Fingers trailed down my spine, slow and deliberate, leaving me breathless. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered name between us felt like a silent confession, a declaration of something deeper than desire—something that neither of us could deny any longer.

I tangled my hands in her hair again, pulling her closer, my lips meeting hers with a desperate urgency. "I don’t want this to end," I whispered against her mouth.

"It doesn’t have to," Zoya murmured, flipping us over effortlessly, her weight settling over me.

I gasped, my hands running up her back, nails digging in softly as she kissed me again, deeper this time—leaving me breathless and completely undone.

My hand slid down between her legs, my touch hesitant but eager. A nervous flutter stirred inside me, but the way she reacted to my strokes—her body arching, her lips parting with soft gasps—reassured me that I was doing something right. My eyes were locked on her face, drinking in every expression, every fleeting moment of pleasure.

Her lips trembled, and she bit down on the back of her hand, trying to muffle the whimpers spilling from her throat. The sight alone made my pulse quicken, and I pressed deeper, feeling the way she squirmed beneath me, her body desperate for more.

A shuddering breath escaped her as her walls clenched around my fingers as she orgasmed, her hands moving to my stomach in a weak attempt to push me away. But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t—not when her back arched and her moans grew louder, her body trembling beneath me, unravelling in the most beautiful way I’d ever seen.

"Stop... stop," she barely managed to whisper, her voice strained and breathless. It took me a second to realize I had gotten carried away, lost in the overwhelming rhythm of her desire. But before I could pull away, another wave of pleasure crashed over her, stealing what little control she had left.

Her body convulsed, a violent tremor shaking through her as she let out a hoarse, guttural moan, my name tumbling from her lips like a plea, raw and unrestrained.

I stilled, watching in awe as she came undone beneath me, completely lost in the moment, and I knew—this was the most breathtaking thing I had ever witnessed

A/N: Bet you didn't see that chapter coming