GCAVixens: Her touch was the only cure I needed

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The fever had left me trembling, but her touch was the only cure I needed. She entered the room like a soft sigh, the scent of night-blooming jasmine trailing in her wake. Her cool palm pressed against my damp forehead, a silent promise of solace. Her fingers, tracing slow circles on my wrist, spoke a language more profound than any words we could utter. I closed my eyes, feeling the storm within me begin to still under her gentle command. The world narrowed to the space of my bed, to the rhythm of our shared breath in the quiet dimness. Every gentle stroke of her hand was a quiet verse in a poem dedicated solely to my mending. A single tear escaped, tracing a path of relief and overwhelming gratitude down my cheek. In that hushed sanctuary, I felt not just her love, but her very soul weaving itself back into the fractured parts of my own. It was a healing not of medicine, but of a profound and tender connection that settled deep into my bones.