Anna pulled back and looked deep into Daniel’s eyes.
"Kiss ," she whispered, the words barely louder than her breath.
Daniel didn’t hesitate. He leaned in, claiming her lips with a tenderness that felt almost reverent, as if he’d been holding that mont in his chest for far too long.
The kiss began slow, careful—his mouth brushing against hers like he was savoring sothing rare, sothing he feared might disappear if he rushed it.
But the second Anna responded, when her fingers curled into his shirt and her lips pressed back with quiet urgency, everything shifted.
The kiss deepened, turning warm and hungry, fueled by hours of distance, misunderstandings, and too many unspoken words. It wasn’t just desire—it was relief, longing, and the comfort of finally being where they both wanted to be.
They had both missed this. Missed each other.
So much of their ti had been spent dodging chaos, people’s expectations, and the constant pressure that seed determined to pull them apart. And now, alone in the quiet of the room, with the door locked and the world temporarily shut out, it felt like they were breathing properly for the first ti in days.
Anna let out a soft laugh against his lips, though her eyes were already growing hazy. "There’s... there’s sothing I need to tell you."
She pulled back just enough to speak, but Daniel didn’t let her finish. His forehead rested against hers, his voice low and warm.
"Not now, wifey," he murmured, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "I just need to feel you for a mont."
And before she could protest, he kissed her again—slower this ti, deeper, like he was grounding himself in her presence.
Anna lted instantly.
The room felt warr, quieter, as if even the walls were giving them space. Daniel reached out blindly, his hand finding the remote on the side table, and with a soft click the blinds slid shut. The outside light dimd, leaving them wrapped in gentle shadows.
It felt safer like this. More private. More real.
Anna shifted, climbing onto his lap without thinking, her movents natural, familiar, like her body already knew where it belonged. She straddled him, her hands resting on his shoulders as she looked down at him with a soft, almost vulnerable smile.
Daniel’s hands instinctively found her waist, steadying her, as if he was afraid she might disappear if he didn’t hold on.
For a mont, they just stayed like that—breathing each other in, foreheads touching, their noses brushing lightly.
"You know," Anna said quietly, her voice suddenly softer, "Your Aunt scares ."
Daniel’s jaw tightened slightly. "Don’t be scare of her when I am with you"
There was no teasing in his voice now, no flirtation. Just honesty.
"I hated how everything kept getting in the way. How every ti we tried to be happy, sothing pulled us apart again." He lifted one hand to her cheek, his thumb brushing gently under her eye. "I don’t want to keep living like that."
Anna leaned into his touch, closing her eyes briefly. "Neither do I. I’m so tired of fighting the world when all I want is you."
His expression softened instantly.
"I don’t need perfect," he said. "I just need you. ssy, emotional, stubborn you."
She laughed quietly. "Wow. Such a romantic."
He grinned. "I try."
But then his smile faded into sothing deeper, more sincere. "I an it, Anna. I don’t care how complicated things get. I don’t care who disapproves or who tries to interfere. I choose you. Every ti."
Her chest tightened at his words.
She’d waited so long to hear that—not just in gestures or kisses, but spoken aloud, clear and undeniable.
"I choose you too," she whispered.
They kissed again, but this ti it was slower, sweeter. Less about heat, more about reassurance. About promises being made without needing to say the word promise.
Anna rested her forehead against his. "I was going to tell you... I was scared earlier. When I saw how Aunt Norma was looking at , how her eyes hold despise for . For a second, I thought maybe loving you was going to cost everything."
Daniel’s arms tightened around her. Anna was being honest without hiding her thoughts.
"And then?" he asked gently.
"And then I realized losing you would cost more."
He exhaled slowly, almost like he’d been holding that breath for years.
"I don’t want to be soone you have to give up things for," he said. "I want to be soone who makes your life better."
"You already do," she replied instantly. "Even on your worst days."
They stayed like that for a while, just talking quietly, sharing thoughts they’d kept bottled up for too long—about fears, about doubts, about how heavy everything felt when they were apart.
There was laughter too, small and genuine, the kind that ca from inside jokes and shared mories no one else understood.
Eventually, Anna rested her head on his shoulder, her voice barely a whisper. "You know what I love most about this?"
"What?"
"That for once, nothing’s on fire. No secrets. Just us."
Daniel smiled, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Yeah. It’s nice not being in survival mode for five minutes."
She shifted slightly, getting more comfortable in his arms, and he adjusted instinctively, like it was second nature.
"You feel like ho," she said softly.
He froze for a second at that.
Then he hugged her tighter.
"So do you."
Outside the room, the world was still ssy. People were still complicated. Problems were still waiting.
But in that mont, with the door locked and the lights low, none of that mattered.
Daniel kept looking at Anna, his thumb gently caressing the curve of her cheek, as if morizing every line of her face.
"How was I... as a person in your past life?" he asked quietly.
The question caught her completely off guard.
Anna blinked, her breath hitching slightly as she searched his eyes, trying to understand what had prompted it. There was no teasing in his expression, no playful tone—just a strange seriousness, as if the thought had been sitting in his mind for a long ti.
"My past life?" she repeated softly.
He nodded, his thumb still moving in slow, comforting strokes along her skin. "You said once that this feels like a rebirth for you. That eting felt like starting over." His lips curved into a faint, uncertain smile. "So... if this is my second chance with you, I was wondering what I was like the first ti."
Reviews
All reviews (0)