The curtains swayed in the breeze, letting in the soft gold of dawn. Everything inside the room was still quiet quiet, as if the air itself held its breath. And so did we.
Luna lay on her side, her back curved like a gentle question mark. Her face was partly buried in the pillow. The blanket clung to her waist, exposing skin kissed by morning light. She wasn't asleep just resting. Breathing. Listening.
Last night, our bodies had said things that our mouths had been too careful to utter. But now, in the stillness, the heart wanted clarity.
She stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing deep pools of blue that seemed to hold too many secrets for a single lifetime. For a moment, we just stared. The silence stretched between us like a bridge fragile, weightless, but strong enough to hold two people unsure of the ground beneath them.
Good morning, her voice a soft melody wrapping around me like a worn love song.
I replied, barely above a whisper, "Good morning.
I reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. She didn't flinch.
Again, her voice came, raw and quiet. I thought mornings like this existed only in music.
I smiled. You mean the ones where everything moves like honey on a Sunday?
She turned slightly, her eyes unreadable. Or like those jazz records my aunt used to play where the trumpet cries and no one asks why.
We slipped back into silence.
The air was thick with unspoken thoughts, the kind that hung heavy, sweet, and dangerous. I propped myself on one elbow, studying the way the light danced across her features. I wanted to reach out again to trace the outline of her silhouette but I was afraid to break the stillness between us.
Last night had been a storm of emotion. It was a mix of quiet vulnerability laced with tension, with curiosity, with something neither of us dared name. We whispered beneath the stars, crossed into a space beyond logic, and now here we were… changed.
Outside, birds called from the trees, and the scent of wet earth drifted in. It must have rained during the night. It felt like the world had paused just for us to breathe, to reflect, to begin again.
Luna's POV:
I wasn't scared.
Not then, not now.
Not when he kissed the doubts off my collarbone, or when he held me like he was trying to memorize the feel of my breath.
But this morning was different.
No fear, just the weight of something that could become real. Too real.
And still, his touch didn't startle me. His silence didn't lie.
That had to count for something.
Dawn's POV:
Waking up next to her brought no guilt.
Only a strange, steady quiet.
Not the kind that comes with certainty but the kind that follows truth. Last night, we were honest. With our eyes. With our hands. Even with our silence.
She stretched, her fingers brushing the headboard before curling into a loose fist. She was art in motion bold, unfinished.
She sat up, hair tumbling down her back like a shadow. Are you hungry? she asked.
I didn't answer right away. I was still watching and learning.
Finally, I said, No. I'm full with questions.
She chuckled. Then eat something. Questions won't keep your stomach quiet.
But we both knew we weren't really talking about food.
She moved barefoot across the room. The hem of my shirt her shirt now brushed her thighs like a whisper. I held my breath. My pulse answered on its own. I wasn't sure I'd ever want that shirt back.
She yanked the curtain aside, flooding the room in molten gold. Light pooled around her like honey, catching the curve of her shoulders and the dip of her neck.
I was watching her.
Luna lay there with her head propped on her arm, eyes steady on him, pulling the buttons through with quiet ease.
Not for lust.
Not even for possession.
Just something deeper like watching dawn stretch itself slowly across the sky. The way light creeps gently, unannounced but sure.
Each movement of his tucking in his shirt, adjusting his cuffs felt like watching someone walk out of a dream while she lived in it.
At first, he didn't notice. But he felt her gaze, because he slowed for a beat his body responded to being seen without being touched.
She had no words. Just that quiet ache of admiration that wasn't desperate, but full. As if watching him become a man again in daylight made her want to reach for the night once more.
I heard myself say, 'You're staring again.
Is it a crime? Her voice a dare, her silhouette backlit in flames.
I murmured, No, but it feels like you're memorizing me.
Her lips parted slightly. My chest tightened.
I crossed the space between us in two strides and wrapped my arms around her from behind. My chin found her shoulder. My heartbeat met her skin like a whisper.
"Maybe I am memorizing you. Forever."
She didn't move. Do people like us always get to say that?
The room went still. Even the sparrows outside paused mid-song.
I felt the weight of her words. Not fear. Just reality. Sometimes, love comes with claws. And the courageous ones still open their arms.
I turned her to face me and tilted her chin. My thumbs gently found her cheekbones. "I don't know what comes next, Luna. But I won't pretend this is not real."
She didn't speak. She just clung tighter. We stood there, in the morning light, slow-dancing in the quiet after the storm.
Later, we dressed in near-silence, the kind that speaks volumes. She slipped into black trousers and a deep green blouse. Her hair was wrapped in a silk scarf the color of midnight.
She examined herself in the mirror. "I need to get home," she said, not looking at me. "I've been here since after my seminar."
"I know," I replied. "I have the office and a meeting I'm already tired of."
She nodded, gathering her things phone, bag, fragments of something larger than either of us.
She turned at the door. Her voice was softer than the wind. "This wasn't a mistake… right?"
I stepped closer and brushed my fingers along her jaw. "If it was," I said gently, "I'll keep making it. Over and over."
Then I added, with a rare certainty: "Luna, I told you, you're worth being mine. I'm not here for games. I chose you. So stop asking what we are. You're my woman. That's it."
Her breath caught. But her smile soft, solemn, knowing told me she'd heard me.
We stepped out together and walked into whatever the day had to offer no longer strangers to each other, but separately.
Luna's POV:
When I got home, everything felt surreal. The quiet wasn't quiet it hummed with his voice, his breath, and the shape of what we'd become.
I rephrased the memory of us in my head, and my skin broke into goosebumps.
I couldn't believe it.
I was his.
Luna, Dawn Bill's partner.
For once, it didn't feel like a fantasy.