We didn’t plan the kiss. It wasn’t dramatic or in slow motion — no music, no fireworks. Just him and me, standing too close, hearts beating too fast.

And then it happened. A kiss so soft it felt like a question. So deep it felt like an answer. Time didn’t stop — it slowed, stretched, wrapped itself around us like a secret.

But it wasn’t the kiss I remember most. It was the stillness after. The way he looked at me, like I was made of something precious. The way my body leaned forward, not to kiss him again, but to stay in that closeness just a little longer.

That moment rewrote something in me. It was quiet, but powerful. Some people leave footprints on your soul, and some just stand still — and change everything.