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Coups de cœur Cultura
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Sometimes sanctuary isn't found in places, but in people.
Not in the home she shared with a husband who no longer touched her. Not in the life she was expected to uphold with a smile.
It was found in him—dangerously close, dangerously forbidden. His arms were supposed to be protective, never possessive. But the way his gaze lingered on her trembling breasts beneath silk, the way his hand brushed too long against her skin, told her he was already breaking.
And when she finally let herself fall into his embrace, she understood. This wasn't a mistake. This wasn't weakness.
This was refuge. A haven.
Her secret haven.
And she would choose it again and again, no matter the ruin it promised.
