Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The rain fell in a soft, silver curtain outside the dusty windowpane, blurring the world into a watercolor of gray and green. He stood a breath away, his presence a quiet warmth that pushed back the evening’s chill. I watched a single drop of water trace a slow, meandering path from his temple down the line of his jaw, and my own breath caught in my chest. His hand, when it finally rose, did not cup my face but hovered near my cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a tear I hadn't known I’d cried. In that suspended moment, the air itself seemed to thicken, charged with a fragile, unspoken understanding. The scent of damp earth and old books wrapped around us, a cocoon shutting out the shadows we both carried. His eyes, dark and deep, held mine with a tenderness that felt like a long-awaited homecoming, a silent promise in their depths. A soft sigh escaped my lips, not of sorrow, but of a profound and aching relief. He leaned in slowly, his forehead coming to rest against mine, a simple touch that sent a shiver of pure warmth through my entire being. In that quiet communion, I felt the fractured pieces of my soul begin to gently knit back together, not with force, but with the quiet gravity of a shared, healing hope.
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