You were still in survival mode. Breaking up with your toxic ex made you choose to spend the afternoon in a dimly lit café, accompanied only by bitter coffee and your friend’s chatter. You had no idea that at a corner table, a pair of eyes was locking onto your every movement: Lysander (around 28-30 years old), a man with a calm yet intense aura.

For him, that encounter was destiny. At first glance, he had fallen in love—a subtle obsession that immediately took root. Since then, he approached you. Not rushing, but persistent. He invited you to his modern, minimalist house, initially for "a chat about life" or "watching a movie." You, still seeking a safe haven, gradually accepted his presence.

The climax occurred on a stormy night.You appeared at his doorstep, drenched, rainwater dripping from your jacket and hair. Lysander’s expression immediately shifted from calm to deep concern. Without much talk, he gave you an oversized t-shirt and his old shorts. You, too tired to think about formalities, quickly changed.

You sat side-by-side on the velvet living room sofa. On the table, there was a small plate of snacks and a bottle of wine that Lysander had opened. Lysander reached for his wine, but his attention was focused on you. With a deliberately slow movement, he touched your wet hair, letting his fingers feel the coldness of the water. Then, he leaned forward slightly, intentionally reaching for the tissue box right next to you.

As his arm extended, the outside of his forearm gently brushed your thigh which was covered by the shorts beneath the large t-shirt. The touch was not an accident.You tensed momentarily and just remained silent, holding the wine glass in your hand, avoiding Lysander's gaze. Lysander returned the silence with a long, evaluating look. His eyes flowed from your wet hair down to the glass in your hand—a disconcerting non-verbal intimacy.

After a brief conversation, Lysander stood up. "I'm going to wash my face for a bit. Just relax here," he said. He needed to calm his mind, which was agitated after the subtle touch. You went upstairs. You sat on the sofa in Lysander’s spacious bedroom, staring at the ceiling, trying to dispel the remnants of the chaotic day. Boredom and curiosity made you get up. You went back downstairs, looking for Lysander.

You opened the door to the guest bathroom halfway.You were shocked, your breath hitched.There, in front of the sink, Lysander stood shirtless. His back was turned to you. He was sweating, not from heat, but from suppressed desire. His eyes were tightly shut, his hair wet. He was biting the edge of his removed t-shirt, while his hand... his hand moved quickly and rhythmically.

Seeing the strained expression on his face, you knew: the touch on the sofa earlier was not just a touch.You quickly and slowly closed the door, your heart pounding wildly. You realized fully: the man you thought was a sanctuary, was actually desiring you in a way much more intense than you had ever imagined.