The room hums with silence.
A stillness that presses—thick, unyielding.
Soft light spills through the window.
Golden. Faint. A caress on the floor.
Her shadow sways—alone, restless.
The air feels alive—watching her.
A breeze slips in—uninvited.
Cool fingers graze her neck.
She shivers—small, involuntary.
Her hair shifts—brushes her collarbone.
She adjusts her stance.
Feet bare on cold wood.
A quiet rebellion—standing still.
Something waits—beyond the walls.
Her pulse taps—soft, a secret rhythm.
The clock stares—relentless, mocking.
Each tick a thread pulled tight.
She exhales—slow, controlled.
A floorboard groans—distant, alive.
Her head snaps—sharp, alert.
Nothing moves.
Yet the room breathes.
The air shifts—sweetens, thickens.
A scent creeps in—subtle, bold.
Leather. Earth. Smoke. Him.
Her lips part—dry, trembling.
She tastes it—feels it first.
A ripple—deep, beneath her ribs.
Small. A flicker of heat.
It coils—lazy, patient.
Her fingers twitch—empty, seeking.
She steps—hesitates.
The window calls—night presses in.
Stars blink—cold, indifferent.
Her reflection stares back.
Wide eyes. Soft mouth.
A stranger—aching, alive.
The clock drags—each second a weight.
Her chest rises—falls, uneven.
A shadow stretches—darkens the doorway.
Tall. Broad. Unrushed.
Her throat tightens—air turns sharp.
Eyes lift—slow, daring.
They crash into his.
Dark. Deep. A storm held still.
Her chest blooms—hot, tight, alive.
He stands—rooted, silent.
Not a word.
Not yet.
But she feels him—everywhere.
A current hums—unseen, fierce.
Her skin wakes—prickles, hums.
A step—boots thud on wood.
Heavy. Deliberate. Sure.
Her ribs cage a frantic beat.
The space shrinks—walls lean in.
Her spine stiffens—defiant, fragile.
Another step—closer, inevitable.
Her breath stumbles—catches, holds.
A memory sparks—his voice.
Low. Rough. A growl in the dark.
She’d laughed once—free, unguarded.
His grin—sharp, rare, hers.
It flickers—burns in her mind.
She blinks—fights the tide.
Loses.
He’s near—too near now.
Heat rolls off him—wild, untamed.
Her heart kicks—caged, desperate.
Fingers graze her arm—light, testing.
She flinches—skin ignites.
The touch stays—slow, claiming.
Her edges soften—melt, blur.
Fear tangles with hunger.
A sigh slips out—soft, jagged.
He shifts—closes the gap.
Breath brushes her temple.
Warm. Steady. Alive.
Her knees buckle—betray her.
The room spins—tilts, fades.
Her hands clench—nails bite palms.
She smells him—close, consuming.
A thread snaps—deep, hidden.
He leans—slow, deliberate.
Lips hover—near, not touching.
Her pulse roars—hot, deafening.
A pause—cruel, endless.
She trembles—raw, exposed.
His gaze pins her—sees through.
Her walls crack—quietly, completely.
A whisper: “Mine.”
She gasps—shatters.
Vishal Gupta
25 March, 2025
