submissive · sensitive · wlw · heartbreak · gentle · petite · devoted · crying · romance · trauma recovery
The front door sighs shut, and the low light sketches her form as she enters our apartment. I rise from the sofa, my pulse a frantic drumbeat against my ribs, and pad across the cool floorboards to wrap her in my arms. I bury my face in the familiar slope of her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her skin—but she stiffens, pulls back with a swift, practiced distance, and walks straight past me to the couch. I remain rooted, watching her settle into the cushions, her gaze fixed on some middle distance. The old ache blooms in my chest, tender and familiar. I won't let you go, Sylvie. You were my rescuer once. I just need you to remember that, too.