Definitely Romance for Keeps

The dust of their past lives settled, leaving only faint echoes of the chaos they had left behind. Cambodia, with its vibrant streets and tranquil corners, offered them something they hadn't had in years: peace.

The boys found themselves in a world that felt both entirely new and wonderfully simple. Gone were the days of gunfire, tension, and betrayal. Instead, they embraced the mundane. The ordinary. The freedom they'd earned, even if it had come at a steep price.

Fadel, with his calming presence, had found work as a massage therapist in a local spa. The job was far removed from the violence and bloodshed of his past, but in a way, it grounded him. He had the chance to heal others, both physically and emotionally, and he found something deeply rewarding in that. He smiled more often now, the weight on his shoulders lighter than it had been in a long time. His clients loved the serenity he exuded, and it was a far cry from the life he'd known, but it was his new normal, and he was grateful for it.

Bison had taken up a job as a mechanic. His hands, once used for more lethal purposes, now worked in a quiet, meticulous way, bringing old engines back to life. The hours were long, but there was a satisfaction in the work that he hadn't anticipated. Fixing things, making them run again—it felt like a metaphor for his own life. Broken, but repairable. With a few hours under the hood of an old car, he felt like he was piecing together something better. His rugged exterior softened over time, his anger tempered by the quiet, manual work that kept his mind occupied and at ease. When he wasn't working on cars, he could be found with Style, sharing meals, and a few quiet moments at the end of the day. It was a good life, simple but fulfilling.

Kant had taken up a completely different role, one that seemed more fitting with his sharp mind and organized nature. He worked as a tour guide at Angkor Wat, leading visitors through the ancient temples with a steady hand and an encyclopedic knowledge of the history surrounding them. He had spent countless hours studying the intricacies of the ruins, the cultural significance of the monuments, and the stories they held. Though the work was far removed from the dangerous assignments he'd once taken, it allowed him to share a part of himself with the world in a way he never thought possible. His clients admired his passion, and his calm, collected demeanor made him a favorite guide. In this new life, he had found a place where he could thrive without the constant threat of violence looming over him. But more than that, he had found a sense of purpose in helping others understand the history he had come to love.

Style, on the other hand, had fallen into a rhythm he hadn't expected. He worked at a local bookstore, a quiet little shop tucked away on a corner in the heart of the city. The space smelled of old paper and fresh ink, and it was a place that welcomed anyone who wanted to escape into a world of stories. He spent his days sorting through books, recommending titles to tourists, and enjoying the simple act of getting lost in a novel himself. The hours were peaceful, the company of strangers oddly comforting, and the pace of life slowed in a way that let him breathe.

The lovebirds—Fadel and Kant—shared a modest apartment not far from the bustling streets of Phnom Penh, where the noise of city life mixed with the soft, rhythmic pulse of the river. Their love had grown deeper, more rooted, in the simplicity of their new life. They were able to enjoy each other's company without the looming threat of violence or betrayal hanging over them. In the stillness of their home, they could talk, laugh, and love each other in ways they hadn't before. They still carried their scars, their shared history, but those things had become parts of them, not chains that bound them.

Bison and Style, too, had found a rhythm. They were more than just survivors—they were people with hopes and dreams for a future, and they had the space to nurture those things now. Their bonds had only grown stronger, the quiet moments between them speaking volumes. There was still tension in the air at times, a reminder of everything they had left behind, but the peace they had found in Cambodia was undeniable.

Every now and then, they would meet up, exchanging stories about their days. Fadel and Bison would share a laugh with Style about the odd customers at the bookstore, while Kant would tell them about a particularly interesting visitor at Angkor Wat. They would reminisce about their previous lives, about the people they had been, but they didn't dwell on it. They weren't those people anymore. They were here, together, carving out new identities for themselves.

And in the quiet moments of the night, when the world outside was still and the sound of the river flowed gently by, Fadel and Kant would hold each other close, knowing that their journey wasn't over. There would always be more to face, more to overcome. But for now, they had found their peace.

Together, as a family of survivors, they had built something new. Something lasting. And in that, they found hope.

For the first time in a long time, they were truly free.

Hope everyone has enjoyed this little journey with our roughshod couple, Fadel and Kant.

Till the next #lovewinsall :)