14-06-2025, 04:20 AM
Meghana’s Feelings
They returned to center. Their breath synced again. He turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze without words.
She nodded once, slight and certain.
No instruction was needed.
Meghana stayed still, sensing the gentle press of his back against hers—how naturally their bodies aligned.
She hadn’t expected to feel this attuned to him so quickly, not outside of words or gestures, but through something as simple as shared breath and presence.
He’s listening to more than just my voice, she realized. He’s listening to me.
There was comfort in the way he moved with her—trusting her lead, yet responding in a way that made her feel seen.
Under the deliberate calm, her pulse had picked up.
The slight brush of his shoulder during the twist, the warmth of his exhale, the barely-there glance he gave her lips when their faces turned close in the rotation—all of it lingered.
She found herself tuning into him more carefully, subtly—watching his hands, the way his body shifted when she spoke, how his breath caught when they touched.
And when he looked at her now, so open and without pretense, she didn’t look away.
Don’t rush, she told herself.
But don’t pull away either.
Because something had shifted.
And she wanted to feel where it would go.
They returned to center. Their breath synced again. He turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze without words.
She nodded once, slight and certain.
No instruction was needed.
Meghana stayed still, sensing the gentle press of his back against hers—how naturally their bodies aligned.
She hadn’t expected to feel this attuned to him so quickly, not outside of words or gestures, but through something as simple as shared breath and presence.
He’s listening to more than just my voice, she realized. He’s listening to me.
There was comfort in the way he moved with her—trusting her lead, yet responding in a way that made her feel seen.
Under the deliberate calm, her pulse had picked up.
The slight brush of his shoulder during the twist, the warmth of his exhale, the barely-there glance he gave her lips when their faces turned close in the rotation—all of it lingered.
She found herself tuning into him more carefully, subtly—watching his hands, the way his body shifted when she spoke, how his breath caught when they touched.
And when he looked at her now, so open and without pretense, she didn’t look away.
Don’t rush, she told herself.
But don’t pull away either.
Because something had shifted.
And she wanted to feel where it would go.
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