04-07-2025, 06:36 PM
On the table, two settings.
Polished silver.
Bowls of steaming food, fragrant and earthy.
A bottle of wine, breathing.
But more than all of it, it was her presence that filled the space, her care, her curation.
She hadn’t just prepared a meal.
She had conjured a night.
“I didn’t know I was walking into a dream,” he murmured.
She turned to him, eyes luminous.
“It’s not a dream,” she said. “It’s just… us. Finally.”
He moved toward the table, but her hand touched his forearm, light as silk, sure as gravity.
“Before we eat,” she said, her voice barely louder than breath, “I want to give you something.”
She stepped closer.
So close that the fabric of her saree brushed against his shirt,
Her scent, warm, floral, familiar, wrapped around him like dusk itself.
She reached for his hand. Guided it slowly to her waist, where the silk was tucked, a gesture not bold, but sacred.
“You’ve been patient,” she whispered. “And I’ve felt every second of it.”
He didn’t reply. But the silence between them shimmered with heat.
Her fingers moved to his shirt, slow, unshaking, as if tracing something she’d already touched in her mind a hundred times.
“Dinner’s here,” she murmured, lips near his collarbone. “But this… this is what I’ve been preparing all day.”
They didn’t kiss.
Polished silver.
Bowls of steaming food, fragrant and earthy.
A bottle of wine, breathing.
But more than all of it, it was her presence that filled the space, her care, her curation.
She hadn’t just prepared a meal.
She had conjured a night.
“I didn’t know I was walking into a dream,” he murmured.
She turned to him, eyes luminous.
“It’s not a dream,” she said. “It’s just… us. Finally.”
He moved toward the table, but her hand touched his forearm, light as silk, sure as gravity.
“Before we eat,” she said, her voice barely louder than breath, “I want to give you something.”
She stepped closer.
So close that the fabric of her saree brushed against his shirt,
Her scent, warm, floral, familiar, wrapped around him like dusk itself.
She reached for his hand. Guided it slowly to her waist, where the silk was tucked, a gesture not bold, but sacred.
“You’ve been patient,” she whispered. “And I’ve felt every second of it.”
He didn’t reply. But the silence between them shimmered with heat.
Her fingers moved to his shirt, slow, unshaking, as if tracing something she’d already touched in her mind a hundred times.
“Dinner’s here,” she murmured, lips near his collarbone. “But this… this is what I’ve been preparing all day.”
They didn’t kiss.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)