Lila
The dress hung on the armoire door like a question I didn’t know how to answer.
I stared at it while the light shifted across the room, dragging the minutes toward a dinner I was not ready for.
It all felt surreal. Like I’d dreamed the note and was about to wake up to it being some cruel joke.
But it was real. Still pressed under the pillow, the ink still sharp, the edges still warm from how many times I’d held it.
You said I don’t see you. Maybe you’re right. But I want to.
That was the part that undid me. Not the invitation. Not the location or even the fact that he’d chosen me and only me. It was the want in it. The quiet request of a man who had every right to command but chose not to.
I wasn’t used to kindness coming without strings. And I sure as hell didn’t know wha
