Novelas de Mira Bloom

The rooftop door was shut behind them.Mara did not remember moving.She only remembered the moment her breath got caught and the moment Daniel’s hand finally touched hers.Just a slow, deliberate slide of his fingers along her jaw.“Mara,” he whispered, his voice was rougher now, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”She did.She had felt it in every lingering glance, every distance he tried to keep, and every moment he looked away from her because looking too much would mean admitting everything.But hearing it—hearing him say it felt like he’d been starving, sent a shiver rolling down her spine.Her hand was pressed lightly against his chest, and he closed his eyes as if feeling the warmth of that simple touch unraveled something inside of him.“You shouldn’t…” she breathed.“I know.”His forehead rested against hers, their breaths were tangled, and their lips were a bit apart.“And I’m done pretending.”The city noise below them was blurred into nothing, and buried under t

Daniel doesn't mean to follow her.He had convinced himself that he needed only air, and space from the storm building inside of him. But the moment Mara slipped out of the apartment and walked down the dim hallway, the quiet click of the door felt like a pull on his ribcage.He found her on the rooftop, leaning against the railing, and the city lights painting gold over her skin.Her dress moved with the wind—soft, and restless, like she couldn’t stand still. Like she was fighting something inside of her just as fiercely as he was.She did not turn when he stepped closer, but her breath trembled.“You followed me,” she whispered.“I did not want to,” he replied, his voice low and rough. “That’s the problem.”Her fingers tightened on the railing. “Then go back downstairs.”He did not move. “You don’t actually want me to.”A long and heavy silence stretched between them. The kind of heat that did not just live under the skin—it ruled it.When she finally looked at him, her eyes were d

The night unfolded slowly, thick with the kind of silence that seemed to weigh on every surface. Mara was awake after the clock had blinked past midnight, and her skin was still humming with the memory of Daniel’s breath against her throat, his fingers at her waist, and the gravity of his restraint holding them both in place.She should have pulled away.He should have stepped back.But instead, they hovered on the edge of something they could no longer pretend wasn’t there.And now—every second felt like she was waiting for that edge to pull her back in.A soft knock broke the silence.Very soft.Just enough to be intentional.Mara sat up quickly, her pulse jumped as she realized–even before opening the door–who was on the other side.Daniel stood there, the dim hallway light was brushing over the tension in his shoulders. His hair was slightly disheveled, his shirt was untucked at the side like he had dragged a hand through it a dozen times trying to breathe, trying to think, and t

Night settled slowly over the house, turning the windows into dark mirrors. Mara had spent the evening pretending to read, but her eyes kept tracing the same sentence. The words refused to register and her mind pulsed with only one thing—one look—one moment, repeating itself like a heartbeat she could feel everywhere.“Daniel’s eyes in the mirror.”The way they had pulled her toward him without a touch, and even without a single step.A wanting that is wrapped around her, quiet but irresistible.She wasn’t sure whether she was avoiding him or waiting for him and she wasn’t even sure which one frightened her more.The hallway groaned softly and her breath stilled.Daniel appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame, the way he does whenever he was thinking too much. But tonight, there was nothing casual about the way he stood there. His shirt sleeves were rolled slightly, his top buttons were undone, making him look both undone and contained at the same time.“Mara,” he said so

Daniel had always been a quiet man—steady, thoughtful, and not one to rush a moment or speak without a purpose. But lately, there was a new stillness to him. Not distant… just watchful. Mara felt it before she caught him looking. A low hum lay beneath the ordinary rhythm of their days, something that gathered in the corners of their home like warmth trapped behind the glass. She noticed it first in the hallway. She had been bending to pick up the laundry basket, wearing nothing remarkable—just an old shirt of his and loose shorts—but the air around her changed. Not the sound of footsteps or breath. Just… awareness. The gravity of being seen. She straightened herself slowly, and glanced over her shoulder. Daniel stood at the other end of the hallway, leaning slightly against the wall as if he had stopped mid-step. His eyes were lowered—not to her face, but to her legs, her hips, and to the soft fall of his shirt against her body. When he finally lifted his gaze to hers,

Mara had always believed that marriage changes in tiny, nearly invisible ways. Not the grand gestures or the sweet confessions, but how the minute changes —like how someone exhales when you walk into the room or how their eyes chase after you without realizing they’re doing it. She learnt this on a quiet autumn night, long before the neighborhood had swallowed itself into silence. Her husband, Daniel had gone to bed earlier, due to exhaustion. She had stayed up in the living room with her cup of herbal tea, letting the heat soak into her palms, and letting the quietness extend. Their days had been full of work, errands, obligations–everything except time for the two of them to breathe around each other. She did not notice he had not gone to bed. At first, it started with a feeling—a shiver she couldn’t name. A sensation that something in the room had just changed slightly. She set her cup down and tilted her head, listening. No sound–only the hum of the refrigerator and the