The storm stops just as abruptly as it began, Kaan planting the final note against the arch of my neck like a phantom kiss—the tender press of his lips infusing me with a burst of knee-buckling familiarity. Like I’ve been here before. Caught in his grasp. Crushed close to his chest. Kissed. Like I’ve been lulled by his comforting presence in a dream I can barely remember the shape of. Only the sturdy bind of his arms keeps me from crumbling into a heap
