They had been tiptoeing around each other for too long.
That night, as she stood by the balcony, lost in thought, she felt him approach.
His voice was low. "Are you cold?"
Before she could answer, he draped his jacket over her shoulders.
Warm. Just like him.
Slowly, she turned. They were standing too close. His eyes darkened, his hand gently brushing her cheek.
She knew this was dangerous.
She knew crossing this line would change everything.
But when he whispered, "Tell me to stop," she didn't.
And when he finally closed the distance,she knew she didn't want him to.