Sliding in and out of me, it hurt the first few strokes, but then that pain subsided into a newfound sort of pleasure. I watched as beads of sweat gathered on his forehead as he attempted to compose himself—he was doing his very best to be gentle. He grabbed a cushion from my bed and placed it under my back, then hooked my leg over his shoulder to hit a new angle. His movements numbed my senses at that.
I felt him so much deeper than I ever did before.
I had known desire before, but this was something wholly different—a tidal wave of longing and surrender that pulled me under, leaving me breathless in its wake. When Wynter’s hands found me, it was as though they carried the weight of centuries, the kind of touch that spoke of lifetimes and promises unbroken. His fingers moved like whispers over my skin, stirring something ancient and infinite within me.
I didn’t just feel his touch; I felt his very essence, that brisk ever consuming winter chill, as if his very being was pouring into mine, filling spaces I hadn’t realized were hollow. When we became one, it wasn’t just a meeting of bodies—it was an unraveling. A surrender so deep it felt like the universe itself had paused to witness. His breath against my neck became the rhythm of my existence, his heartbeat the echo of my own.
In those moments, time ceased to matter. I was weightless, limitless, bound to him in ways words could never contain. He wasn’t just with me; he was inside me—in my soul, in my bones, in the quiet spaces I’d kept hidden even from myself. I wasn’t falling; I was rising, lifted by the sheer gravity of what we’d become.
And when the stillness came, I didn’t know where I ended and he began. I only knew that I was no longer just myself. I was his. He was mine. And even if it was just for one more night, we wereeverything.
I watched Wynter sleep. He was so peaceful this way. I traced my fingers over his face, his sharp nose, his long eyelashes, everyfreckle and mole. There was a part of me that felt like last night was just another one of my silly little dreams, a fantasy.
But the soreness between my legs and lingering feeling of him moving inside of me sure did remind me that this was in fact my reality. If so then why did I still feelso…devoid?
The early morning light filtered through the kitchen window, casting a golden glow over the counter where I stood flipping pancakes on the griddle. The house was still quiet except for the soft sound of the batter sizzling and the occasional scrape of a spatula. I focused on the task, letting the rhythm of cooking distract me from the storm brewing in my chest.
I hadn’t slept. After last night, after Wyn’s calm but unyielding words, I’d spent hours lying awake, torn between guilt and fear. Every time I thought about confessing, my throat tightened and my resolve crumbled.
“You’re awake?” Cahya’s voice broke through my thoughts, low and sharp as he leaned against the doorway.
“What do you want, Cahya?” I huffed.
I turned, startled. He was already watching me, his expression unreadable but his presence heavy.
“Well, that’s not a very welcoming greeting,” he protested.
“Morning,” I said quickly, turning back to the stove.
He didn’t move. “Did you tell him?”
I gripped the spatula tighter, my heart sinking. “Cahya, please—”
“Did youtellhim?” he repeated, his voice more insistent.
I shook my head, my voice barely above a whisper. “I told you I…I don’t know if I can.”
Cahya sighed, the sound heavy with disappointment. “You can’t just avoid it, Yesoh. You know what you did was wrong. You went behind his back, you invaded his privacy. Hedeservesto know.”
I clenched my jaw, flipping another pancake onto the stack. “I know that. I just…I don’t want to hurt him.”
“See this is where you’ve been terribly misled because you’realreadyhurting him,” Cahya said, stepping closer. “The longer you wait, the worse it’ll be. This isn’t just about you anymore—it’s about him. It’s about my friendship with him as well. And about doing the right thing.”
I swallowed hard, my chest tightening as his words hit home. “And just who made you high enforcer of morality? I didn’t mean to betray him,” I said quietly, my voice trembling. “I didn’t think it was that serious, I just wanted to know him and if that’s a crime then so be it—”
“That’s the problem,” Cahya cut in. “Youdidn’tthink. But now you have toownyour shit, Yesoh.”
I turned to face him, my eyes stinging with tears.
“You’re ruining my relationship.”
“So are you,” he deadpanned in response.
I opened my mouth to respond, but the sound of footsteps interrupted us.
Wyn stood in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with disbelief.
“What… are you talking about?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
