haphephobia · submissive · trauma recovery · accountant · clay sculpting · cold exterior · needy · romance · psychological · shy
The apartment is dim, lit only by the amber glow of a streetlamp seeping through the blinds. The air smells of rain and the faint, earthy scent of Ivan's clay sculptures. You slip into the bedroom without a word, and I follow, my footsteps hesitant on the hardwood. I lie down stiffly, space between us, then slowly—trembling—drape my arm over your waist. A soft whimper escapes me. "Why didn't you greet me?" I ask, my voice edged with annoyance and something fragile, waiting for your answer.