It began with excuses. A book borrowed, a question asked, a path crossed too often to be coincidence. What the world could not see, they quietly builtpiece by piece, glance by glance. Their words were ordinary on the surface, but beneath them lived an unspoken truth. A brush of fingers when handing over a page, a smile that lingered too long, a silence that said more than speech ever could. Every stolen moment was a rebellion. Every shared secret, a crime. And yet, in those fragments of borrowed time, they felt something purer than all the rules that condemned them. They were not yet lovers, but they were no longer strangers. They lived in the dangerous space in-betweenwhere desire grows, and silence trembles, and the heart begins to forget fear.
Tolulope1
37 days agoStolen Moments
It began with excuses.
A book borrowed, a question asked, a path crossed too often to be coincidence. What the world could not see, they quietly built piece by piece, glance by glance. Their words were ordinary on the surface, but beneath them lived an unspoken truth. A brush of fingers when handing over a page, a smile that lingered too long, a silence that said more than speech ever could. Every stolen moment was a rebellion.
Every shared secret, a crime.
And yet, in those fragments of borrowed time, they felt something purer than all the rules that condemned them. They were not yet lovers, but they were no longer strangers. They lived in the dangerous space in-between where desire grows, and silence trembles, and the heart begins to forget fear.