Rita's Point Of View
I pulled back, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I thought it might actually crack a bone. Each beat felt like a drum warning me of danger, yet I couldn't move away. I stared at Charles, my breath coming in short, jagged gasps that made my chest ache. The room felt like it was spinning, the gold leaf on the walls blurring into a hazy, shimmering mess.
His hands were still there… warm, heavy, and firm wrapped around my waist as if he were afraid I'd dissolve into smoke if he let go. The heat of his palms seeped through the thin fabric of my dress, anchoring me to this impossible moment.
"What... what are you doing?" I whispered, my voice barely a breath, trembling with an emotion I couldn't even put a name to.
Was it rage? Longing? Or just the sheer, terrifying shock of feeling his skin against mine after twenty-five years of nothing but cold pillows and bitter memories?
