It begins with a glance—her eyes catching his across the room, only to dart away, cheeks warming with a blush she can’t hide. She tells herself it’s foolish, that he won’t notice. But the truth is, she wants him to notice. She wants to be the spark that makes him forget the weight of his ring, the obligations waiting at home. Her blush is an invitation disguised as innocence.
When he steps closer, her nervous laughter betrays her longing. She fidgets with her hands, her voice softer than usual, each word trembling with hidden meaning. He could take it as shyness, but she knows he won’t—he’ll feel the pull beneath her blush, the unspoken plea for him to see her differently. She is no longer just another woman; she is the one daring him to forget.
And in that moment, when his eyes linger too long on her face, she feels her blush deepen, spreading warmth through her whole body. She wants him to carry that image with him, to remember her when he shouldn’t, to think of her when he lies in another bed. Her blush is no accident—it is her silent claim, her secret way of making him hers, if only in memory.
