Ready
She lay there, eyes half-lidded in the low golden light of the room, skin kissed with the sheen of our shared heat. The silence between us wasn’t empty—it was full of everything we didn’t yet know how to say. Her breath still came in waves, soft, like the ocean retreating after a storm. I leaned over her, brushing a kiss against her temple. She didn’t flinch. That meant something. “Come on,” I murmured, voice quiet but coaxing. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” She was too relaxed to argue, too spent to resist. I picked her up carefully—her body folding against mine like a memory I had never forgotten—and carried her to the bathroom. The water had already been drawn. Warm. Still steaming. I always had things ready, just in case. A part of me had imagined this moment a thousand times… not for
- Writer
