Pamper
The breeze carried the faint scent of coffee and jasmine, but neither of them noticed. Time seemed to slow around them, held still by a moment they both weren't ready for — and yet, had been waiting for all along.
Siddarth stood slowly and stepped around the table. She looked up, surprised, lips parted as if to speak — but no words came.
He crouched slightly beside her, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered there for a moment, tracing the line of her cheek.
Then, gently — with more emotion than passion — he pressed his lips to her forehead.
Her eyes fluttered closed.
The kiss was brief, but it carried years of unsaid words, silent regrets, and questions neither had dared ask. When he pulled back, his hand remained, cradling the side of her face.
"You look after everyone," he said quietly, "but who looks after you?"
Her throat tightened.
"You don't have to pretend with me," he added, thumb softly brushing her cheek.
She opened her eyes, glistening with unspoken emotion. "I forgot how safe you made me feel," she whispered.
He smiled faintly. "Then let me remind you."
For the first time in years, she leaned into his touch — not as a girl trying to be strong, but as someone finally allowing herself to be held.
For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to rest in the comfort of him — the warmth of his touch, the steadiness of his presence. But then, like a shadow slipping in through light, a thought crept into her mind.
This isn't real... not yet.
The tenderness scared her more than distance ever had.
She straightened gently, pulling away just enough to create space between them. Siddarth noticed the change, the way her shoulders lifted slightly — as though putting her guard back on.
"I think I should go," she said softly, eyes avoiding his. "There's still work waiting at my desk… and if I stay a little longer, I might forget why I walked away the first time."
Siddarth studied her for a moment. His expression didn't change, but something in his eyes flickered — understanding, maybe… or regret.
"I won't stop you," he said, voice calm. "But I won't pretend this didn't happen."
She gave a small nod, standing and smoothing her skirt. "I didn't come looking for this. I wasn't ready."
"You don't have to be," he replied. "Just… don't disappear again."
Their eyes met — hers clouded with hesitation, his steady as ever. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away, the soft click of her heels echoing on the rooftop floor.
Siddarth remained where he was, watching the door long after it closed behind her.