ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The rain traced silver paths down the windowpane, blurring the city lights into a soft, distant watercolor. He stood behind her, his presence a solid warmth against the fragile chill that clung to her skin. His hands, calloused yet impossibly gentle, came to rest on her shoulders, his thumbs tracing slow, deliberate circles that melted the tension from her muscles. She leaned back into the shelter of his chest, her breath catching as his fingers slid up the column of her neck, into her hair. A soft sigh escaped her lips, lost to the rhythmic drumming of the storm against the glass. He turned her slowly, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that made the world outside cease to exist. In his eyes, she saw not pity, but a profound understanding that soothed the raw edges of her heart. His palm cradled her cheek, his thumb brushing away a single, stray tear she hadn't known she’d cried. The space between them vanished as he drew her close, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was not a claim, but a quiet promise. In that suspended moment, she felt not broken, but beautifully, tenderly remade.
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