Sofia and Miller lay entwined in his bed, the stillness between them now laced with both warmth and unease. Their confession about the visions had deepened their connection, yet it also cast a shadow of uncertainty. Miller turned to her, his arm still cradling her, but his gaze was intense, searching.
"Sofia," he said softly, his voice carrying a quiet urgency. "When did you first see them? The visions. When did they begin?"
She stiffened, her fingers pausing on his chest. She had braced herself for this conversation, yet the weight of it made her flush with embarrassment. Her cheeks burned, and she looked away, shame prickling at her skin.
"That day," she whispered. "After… in your office, when I confessed to you. And then…" Her voice trembled, faltering. "Afterward."
Miller's hand brushed her cheek, tender and reassuring. "In the office? You mean after you left?"
She nodded, sitting up and pulling the blanket tighter, as if it could guard her from the memory. "I ran out. I was so ashamed, so afraid. I couldn't believe I'd done it—thrown myself at you, lost all control. I wanted to vanish, to erase myself." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I stumbled into some auditorium in the building. The door was unlocked. I slipped inside, locked it behind me, and just… tried to breathe."
Miller listened in silence, his eyes locked on her, giving her space to unravel her story.
"I collapsed by the door, and all I could think of was you," she continued. "How you'd consumed my thoughts all day, how I'd ridden my bike to the university to confront you because I couldn't hold it in anymore. How the bike seat…" She hesitated, her voice catching. "It pressed against me, and I couldn't think of anything but you. And then, under your desk… it was overwhelming."
She paused, her fingers twisting the blanket. "In that auditorium, sitting there on the floor, I… I slipped my hand into my shorts. I couldn't stop myself. My hands shook, my stomach knotted, and in my mouth… I could still taste you. And then, for a moment, the world shimmered. I saw something—a room with wooden beams, the scent of fresh grass. It was so vivid, but gone in an instant." She looked at him, tears spilling over. "I'm not a child. I've had lovers before, but… that was my first orgasm. And my first vision."
Despite the weight of the moment, David couldn't help but linger on her words—"first orgasm." That she'd felt it for the first time while consumed by thoughts of him? That no other man had stirred such a response in her? He fought to keep his expression neutral, but a quiet thrill warmed his chest, mingling with a tender ache for her.
Sofia leaned into him, her voice barely a whisper. "I thought I was going mad. These visions… they're like glimpses of another life. Or something else. But they started that day, with… with how I felt you."
Miller said nothing, only stroked her hair, her arm, and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.