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Their bodies pressed close, a silent vow whispered between heartbeats. The world blurred at the edges, leaving only the two of them—his hands cradling her head like something sacred, her fingers gripping his shirt as if he might vanish. The kiss was slow, deep—a conversation without words. Each brush of his lips was a confession, every breath from her an answer. He tilted her head just so, claiming her with a certainty that spoke louder than any vow. This wasn’t the love of poems or ballads, but the kind that burned quietly—in the way his thumb traced her jaw, in the way her breath hitched when he lingered. She melted into him, knees softening, heart pounding wild against his chest. Time thickened, each second stretching into forever. When they finally parted—only by a breath—their foreheads rested together, lips still hovering, still aching.
