~🖤The Woman Even the Moon Feared to Touch

 

In a realm where the moon governed desires, she walked like a whispered legend—elegant, untouchable, intoxicating to the soul.
They said she was born of fire and velvet, the kind of woman sonnets are written for—but too dangerous to love deeply.

Every room she entered paused—not for her beauty alone, but for the storm cloaked in her softness.
She wasn’t cruel… she was merely once too kind, and cruelty had been her teacher.

On a night when the moon bled red, she met him—not a prince, nor a poet, but a man who looked at her as if ruins could be rebuilt.
He didn’t shower her with adoration.
He offered silence.
The kind of silence that lets old pain breathe.

She asked,
“Why don’t you run, like the others?”
He replied,
“Because I don’t fear storms… I was born in one.”

And maybe, that’s all she ever wanted—
Not someone to worship her flames…
But someone who didn’t flinch when they rose.

Still, she didn’t trust him.
Not completely.
Not yet.

So she tested him—not with questions, but with absence.
And when she returned, there were no poems in her name.

There was only
his sword, drawn.

For her.

🔮 Epilogue

Some women do not seek to be saved.

They seek the kind of man who dares to stand still when the world tries to rewrite them.