The Quiet Hum of Us

The city outside my window is a blur of cold neon and rushing rain. But here, in the amber glow of our living room, time has decided to stop.
I wear this dress not for an occasion, but because you told me once that I look like moonlight captured in silk. Your eyes are on me—not searching or questioning—just seeing.
You step closer. The scent of cedar and old books follows you. When your thumb brushes against my jawline, a small shiver travels from my skin to the center of my chest.
I don't need words today. I only want this: the sound of your breathing matching mine, the warmth of your hand on my waist, and the feeling that for once, I am exactly where I belong.

Editor: Pure Linen