Soft snow. Gentle hands. Pink ribbon. It's always this feeling when the world is quiet and you belong here. ✨

The light caught the lace at your cuff as you brushed past, close enough that her hair smelled like rosewater and snow. A single exhale, a tilt of the head—a silent invitation. She didn’t turn, only shifted slightly when your hand grazed the back of her neck, fingers tracing warmth against skin still cool from the winter air.

A ghost of a smile bloomed on her lips as you leaned in, slow and deliberate. It wasn't an answer, not yet, but it was everything.