14-06-2025, 04:08 AM
As he sat upright, rolling his shoulders out of the fold, Abhi’s thoughts lingered not on the pose but on her—the closeness of her breath during the stretch, the way her fingertips had curled around his without hesitation.
It hadn’t just steadied his body.
It had stirred something.
Her presence was a blend of confidence and quiet grace, and now, that grace had physical memory: the warmth of her palms, the heat between their forearms when they leaned forward, how her forehead had come within a breath of his.
He’d felt something shift in him as they moved—an opening.
A surrender that wasn’t forced but invited.
She planned this, he thought, not with arrogance but with awe.
The way she dressed today, how carefully she guided him—there was an elegance to it, but also a charge.
It wasn't just about yoga anymore. Not for him.
And maybe not for her either.
He caught himself glancing at her again.
The arch of her back as she stretched, the effortless way her hair fell against her cheek as she smiled.
Everything about her presence felt curated for the moment—but not artificial. It felt… intimate. Intentional.
What are we stepping into? he wondered. And more urgently: What would happen if neither of us stepped away?
He wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t about to pull back now.
Something had shifted.
Something deliberate
Something anticipated
---
It hadn’t just steadied his body.
It had stirred something.
Her presence was a blend of confidence and quiet grace, and now, that grace had physical memory: the warmth of her palms, the heat between their forearms when they leaned forward, how her forehead had come within a breath of his.
He’d felt something shift in him as they moved—an opening.
A surrender that wasn’t forced but invited.
She planned this, he thought, not with arrogance but with awe.
The way she dressed today, how carefully she guided him—there was an elegance to it, but also a charge.
It wasn't just about yoga anymore. Not for him.
And maybe not for her either.
He caught himself glancing at her again.
The arch of her back as she stretched, the effortless way her hair fell against her cheek as she smiled.
Everything about her presence felt curated for the moment—but not artificial. It felt… intimate. Intentional.
What are we stepping into? he wondered. And more urgently: What would happen if neither of us stepped away?
He wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t about to pull back now.
Something had shifted.
Something deliberate
Something anticipated
---
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