Moonlit Secrets
When he entered, late and quiet, she didn’t look up.
He didn’t speak.
He undressed with methodical silence, slid under the covers, and lay on his back, breath shallow.
But when he reached out, barely, softly, his fingers brushed hers.
A plea.
A confession with no words.
She didn’t pull away.
But she didn’t hold on, either.
In the dark, her voice echoed.
Soft. Resolute.
“I am not your secret.”
And somewhere beyond the cliffs, thunder answered.
Not loud. Not violent.
Sikat na Kabanata