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I lean back, searching her face, but she’s already reaching for me—fingers curling into my shirt, pulling me close.

“Please,” she whispers. “Take me upstairs.” Her voice cracks. “Make me forget.”

The words undo me.

I scoop her up in one smooth motion, her arms winding around my neck as I carry her upstairs. Every step is silent, heavy with something we’re both afraid to name.

She presses her face into my shoulder, and I press kisses to her hair, to her temple, to her cheek.

I don’t speak.

I just hold her.

Because in this moment, she needs my body more than my words.

And I need her closer than I’ve ever needed anyone in my life.

I carry her upstairs without a word.

The silence between us isn’t cold anymore—it’s charged, humming with something raw and open. Her fingers tighten at the back of my neck like she’s afraid if she lets go, I’ll disappear.

I won’t.

Not tonight.

Inside the bedroom, I don’t bother with the light. Moonlight slips through the open curtain, painting her skin in soft silver as I lay her gently on the bed. She watches me in that quiet way of hers, eyes wide and heavy with things she isn’t saying.

I kneel over her, kiss her forehead, then her cheeks, then her lips—slow and soft and full of reverence. My hands slide over her hips, lifting her jacket off, then the top beneath it, peeling away each layer like it’s sacred.

She lets me.

Her hands tremble as they reach for my shirt, and I help her—pulling it over my head and tossing it to the floor. She runs her palms over my chest like she’s memorizing me, and I lean into her touch because I’m trying to do the same.

Neither of us speaks.

Because how do you say I’ll miss you so much it already hurts?

I kiss her again, deeper this time, then ease her back onto the pillows, undressing her slowly, carefully, until she’s bare beneath me. Her breath hitches, and her eyes lock onto mine, holding me there like she’s asking, Are we okay? Are we still here?

I answer with a kiss.

And then another.

And another.

I worship her with my mouth, my hands, my body—like this is the last night I’ll ever get to. My pace is slow, deliberate, every movement laced with meaning. I don’t just want to touch her. I want to love her—so thoroughly she forgets anything that came before me.

She wraps her arms around my shoulders, whispering my name like it’s the only word she remembers. And when I slideinside her, we both break a little—eyes locked, breaths tangled, our bodies pressing together like they’re trying to fuse.

We move slowly.

Together.

No frenzy. No rush.

Just the sound of our breathing, the slide of skin on skin, the quiet whimpers that escape her lips every time I whisper ‘I’ve got you’.

She clings to me like she’s afraid I’ll disappear.