04-07-2025, 06:40 PM
But something passed between them, a stillness, a spark, a silent agreement.
She took his hand and led him to the table, step by step, her fingers never letting go.
They sat.
She poured the wine with a quiet grace, each movement deliberate, fluid.
Candlelight clung to her bangles, caught in the curve of her collarbone, flickered like a secret in her hair.
When their fingers met over the rim of the glass, neither pulled away.
The food was warm. Comforting.
Cooked with intention, spiced with memory.
But it was in the pauses between bites that the night breathed fully.
When she reached across and fed him, a slow, careful bite, fingers near his lips, he closed his eyes a moment too long.
Her touch had shifted. It was no longer waiting for permission.
It was answering a promise.
“I want tonight to be slow and amazing” she said, her voice barely cutting the candlelit silence.
He held her gaze. “It already is.”
“Real.”
His hand found hers on the table. “It’s never been anything else.”
They didn’t rush the wine.
They didn’t devour the meal.
They existed in the in-betweens, between glances and breath, between touch and intention, between everything that had once been restrained.
And beneath the shimmer of brass candlelight, wrapped in silk and certainty
Meghana was no longer waiting behind words unsaid or walls unspoken.
She was here.
Choosing.
Welcoming...
-- oOo --
She took his hand and led him to the table, step by step, her fingers never letting go.
They sat.
She poured the wine with a quiet grace, each movement deliberate, fluid.
Candlelight clung to her bangles, caught in the curve of her collarbone, flickered like a secret in her hair.
When their fingers met over the rim of the glass, neither pulled away.
The food was warm. Comforting.
Cooked with intention, spiced with memory.
But it was in the pauses between bites that the night breathed fully.
When she reached across and fed him, a slow, careful bite, fingers near his lips, he closed his eyes a moment too long.
Her touch had shifted. It was no longer waiting for permission.
It was answering a promise.
“I want tonight to be slow and amazing” she said, her voice barely cutting the candlelit silence.
He held her gaze. “It already is.”
“Real.”
His hand found hers on the table. “It’s never been anything else.”
They didn’t rush the wine.
They didn’t devour the meal.
They existed in the in-betweens, between glances and breath, between touch and intention, between everything that had once been restrained.
And beneath the shimmer of brass candlelight, wrapped in silk and certainty
Meghana was no longer waiting behind words unsaid or walls unspoken.
She was here.
Choosing.
Welcoming...
-- oOo --
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