"Maria," I said, my voice low, almost a breath, as I kept slowly walking toward her.
Each step felt longer than the last.
As if the space between us had stretched on purpose, teasing me, testing my will.
The room was quiet, wrapped in soft shadows, and the only sound was my own breathing, uneven and careful.
Her face was blushing a little, a soft pink that stood out gently against her pale skin.
And she was sleeping on the bed in an inviting manner.
Her body relaxed, her posture open, as if she trusted the night itself.
The sheets were loose around her, and the moonlight slipped through the window, resting on her like a quiet promise.
I gulped as I walked closer to her, feeling my throat tighten for no clear reason other than the weight of the moment.
My heart beat louder the nearer I got, each pulse reminding me that this was real, that she was there, and that I was not dreaming.
