Chapter 6

The air in the back room of the vintage fair was thick, heavy with the scent of old paper, polished wood, and the lingering, sweet musk of our own exertion. We had slipped away from the cacophony of the night market, escaping the clatter of the dance floor and the string lights that buzzed like tired fireflies above the stalls. This private room, tucked behind a heavy velvet curtain, offered a sanctuary of shadows and silence, broken only by the distant thump of bass vibrating through the floorboards. It felt like we were in a different world, a secret world that belonged only to him and me. He stood by the door, locking it with a decisive click that sounded like a promise. The room was dim, lit by a single antique lamp on a side table that cast long, dancing shadows against the walls lined with framed posters and dusty mirrors. In the center stood a large, worn leather couch, its surface cracked and soft, inviting us to collapse. But we didn’t just want to sit. The energy between us had been building for hours, simmering beneath the surface of our casual conversations and lingering glances. Now, it had