14-08-2025, 10:46 AM
He could have felt the slickness of her damp skin beneath his fingertips
The curve of her neck,
The delicate hollow just beneath her ear where he had brushed his fingers and had almost leaned in to kiss.
The fantasy of what might have happened is a sharp contrast to the reality of how things played out.
Ravi had stayed where he was, allowing the moment to slip away,
Wondering what could have happened if he had just given in.
She would have let me...
And now, there’s nothing but the ache of missed opportunity, the raw,
Desperate longing for something that could have been,
And maybe still could be, if only he had dared to move.
He could have taken off that shirt completely, revealed every inch of her to him.
And if he had, there would have been nothing between them but the truth, the raw truth of their desire.
But instead, the moment had passed.
She had rolled over, closed her eyes,
And settled back into the couch, unaware of the war raging inside him.
And he had stayed there, quietly watching her, his heart aching with the weight of everything he had missed.
I will never forget the way she looked at me, Ravi thinks now,
His fingers curling into the fabric of the chair.
The way she trusted me to be near her, to touch her, and I couldn’t… I didn’t.
He knows that nothing will ever quite compare to that feeling.
The pull of her body, the temptation of her presence, and the sharp sting of his own indecision.
If he had just gone for it—just let himself feel all of her, in every sense—what would it have been like?
It’s a question he’ll keep asking himself, as long as he remembers that moment. The moment where he could have touched her, kissed her, and known something deeper. Something more real.
But now, all he has are the echoes of that moment and the ache in his chest,
Wishing he had been braver, wishing he had taken that step.
The curve of her neck,
The delicate hollow just beneath her ear where he had brushed his fingers and had almost leaned in to kiss.
The fantasy of what might have happened is a sharp contrast to the reality of how things played out.
Ravi had stayed where he was, allowing the moment to slip away,
Wondering what could have happened if he had just given in.
She would have let me...
And now, there’s nothing but the ache of missed opportunity, the raw,
Desperate longing for something that could have been,
And maybe still could be, if only he had dared to move.
He could have taken off that shirt completely, revealed every inch of her to him.
And if he had, there would have been nothing between them but the truth, the raw truth of their desire.
But instead, the moment had passed.
She had rolled over, closed her eyes,
And settled back into the couch, unaware of the war raging inside him.
And he had stayed there, quietly watching her, his heart aching with the weight of everything he had missed.
I will never forget the way she looked at me, Ravi thinks now,
His fingers curling into the fabric of the chair.
The way she trusted me to be near her, to touch her, and I couldn’t… I didn’t.
He knows that nothing will ever quite compare to that feeling.
The pull of her body, the temptation of her presence, and the sharp sting of his own indecision.
If he had just gone for it—just let himself feel all of her, in every sense—what would it have been like?
It’s a question he’ll keep asking himself, as long as he remembers that moment. The moment where he could have touched her, kissed her, and known something deeper. Something more real.
But now, all he has are the echoes of that moment and the ache in his chest,
Wishing he had been braver, wishing he had taken that step.
.