A slow jazz melody drifted through the speakers, softer than the energetic salsa beats that had filled the room before.
Couples moved closer together on the dance floor.
Jiya stepped toward me again.
This time, the movement was more intimate.
Her hand rested gently on my chest, and I placed my hand at the small of her back as we began to sway slowly to the music.
She leaned her head against my cheek.
Our bodies were so close that a sheet of paper couldn’t pass between us.
The noise of the room faded into the background.
All I could feel was the closeness of her beside me and the rhythm of the music guiding us across the floor.
On the driveback to my apartment, I stopped at a red light and glanced at Jiya.
She was gazing out of the window, her eyes following something in the darkness outside that I could not see. I wondered what she was thinking about.
Was it me?Was it the children?Or was she thinking about her past… about the man who had once been part of her life?A burning sensation crept into my stomach at the thought that she might have been thinking about Emma’s father. The idea twisted uncomfortably inside my chest.
When we arrived at my apartment, I parked the car, and we stepped inside.
Jiya slipped off her shoes near the door.
She moved easily around the room, growing comfortable. She folded my blazer—the one I had draped over her shoulders before we left the club—and carefully placed it over the back ofa dining chair.She walked over to the gramophone in the living room and gently placed the needle on the spinning disc that was already sitting inside.
A moment later,ElvisPresley’svoice filled the room with the soft, timeless melody ofCan’t Help Falling in Love.
The warm crackle of the record blended beautifully with the quiet atmosphere of the apartment.
I watched her sway slowly to the music.
The lights in the room were dim, casting soft shadows across the walls. The faint glow from the lamp near the couch illuminated her silhouette as she moved with the rhythm.
My heart began to pound harder with every step I took closer to her. A sudden flush of heat spread through my entire body when she reached for my hand and twirled with me around the living room. Our movements were not perfectly choreographed, but somehow we fell into sync, laughing softly as we moved together.
When the song came to an end, she stopped and looked up at me.
Her eyelashes fluttered slowly.
For a brief moment, the world seemed to shrink around us.
Without thinking further, with our bodies still pressed together, I bent down and kissed her.
The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, as though we were both testing the moment.
Then something shifted.
A moan escaped her lips as she responded, and suddenly, hesitation vanished. Our breathing turned uneven as the kiss grew hungrier, more urgent.
Her arms slid around my neck as she pulled me closer, her body moulding against mine.
My hands moved instinctively along her back, tracing the curve of her waist beneath the soft fabric of her dress. Thecontact sent a rush of sensation through me after months of restraint.
Every emotion I had been holding back—desire, longing, frustration, love—rose to the surface.
