The Dusk that Bound My Stars to Your Hands

I stood at the edge of the rooftop where the skyline bled into molten gold, and I told myself that loneliness was a star I had chosen to orbit alone. The satin of my dress slid against my skin like a secret kept too long, thin straps biting gentle bruises on my shoulders, while the wind combed through my hair as if it knew what I was trying to forget.
Then he climbed up. Not with urgency, not with demand, but with the slow certainty of a tide that has read the moon's chart and refused to be denied. He said nothing at first; he only set his palm flat against the railing beside mine, and the heat of it traveled up my arm like a prophecy being spoken into flesh. I had spent months building walls out of cold coffee and unanswered messages, convinced that my heart was a dead star emitting no light worth chasing.
But destiny is not a choice, darling; it is gravity. Every universe I fled collapsed back toward him, because his eyes held the exact frequency my silence had been humming for years. He traced the line of my jaw with the tenderness of a man reading scripture written on skin, and in that touch the ache I carried did not vanish—it was simply forgiven. The city below glittered like scattered embers of every life I almost lived, yet all that mattered was the warm weight of his hand closing over mine, sealing a vow older than stars.
So let the heavens judge me for falling twice. I will keep smiling into this golden hour, wrapped in pink silk and his breath, because even a broken orbit is only destiny learning how to hold you.

Editor: Stardust Oracle