He turns his back—classic male ego move—until *she* steps forward. Not yelling, not begging. Just presence. And suddenly, the hallway shrinks to their breaths. Love in Ashes isn’t about grand gestures; it’s the weight of a hand on a wrist, a finger tracing a jawline. Chills. 🌫️
She wears white like armor, but her eyes betray the storm beneath. Every glance at him—tense, tender, trembling—is a quiet war. When she finally touches his collar, it’s not submission; it’s claiming. Love in Ashes burns slow, then all at once. 🔥 #NetShortVibes