It's a poisonous nectar that both drink, knowing that it's poisoned.
She is a flame in the dark, inviting and burning. It's a cold wind that extinguishes it, then blows it stronger. Their meeting is like a flash of lightning: dazzling, inevitable, destructive.
They lie to each other with such skill that they themselves begin to believe in this game. Every touch is a deception, every whisper is a trap. But the more dangerous the truth, the sweeter the lie becomes.
And when the game goes too far, there will be only one question: who stopped pretending first?
