

Tell me… does this fabric feel like a whisper between us? Something delicate, waiting to be undone. I can almost imagine your fingers tracing the seams—slow, deliberate—as if savoring the moment before the threads give way. And then… what then? Do you pull me close, let the silence between us grow heavy with everything left unspoken? Or do you let your touch say it all, until there’s nothing left but the warmth of your hands and the quiet understanding of skin?