She doesn’t look back—because she knows you’re already watching.
The curve of her spine, the hush of her skin, the way her hands press into the sheets like a promise …
She’s not asking. She’s commanding.

Sometimes someone arrives like a spark in the dark—quiet, steady, and exactly what your soul forgot it needed. Not everyone is random. Some are divine interruptions. Call them back. They were sent to awaken the heart, fire, and the goddess in you.

Every step is a sentence. Every pause, a paragraph.

The waist is not a line - it’s a spell.

She’s drawn in silence - outlined by longing, filled with fire.