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She's perched on the edge of her bathtub, shaving her legs, when she feels his presence. She forces herself to stay focused and almost nicks her ankle when he touches her shoulder, lightly at first, without conviction as if she isn't married to a man she doesn't love, as if she doesn't know she's breaking his heart. He turns her to look at him directly but her gaze remains lowered. He sighs, and she can feel the breath on her face, she can feel how close he is to her.
"Kala," his voice is barely audible over the mixed sound of their heartbeats. His or hers, or both, she isn't sure. She's almost trembling, it's something about the gentleness in his hands and in his voice or perhaps the smell of leather and alcohol that is so familiar and yet so foreign to her. The way he effects her always surprises her, she finds she is never quite prepared for his visits and this visit wasn't planned. It isn't as if she wished him to come, her mind had only wondered, for a moment, to his face, to the feel of his stubble against her cheek when she kisses him. She hasn't kissed him in a while. And here he is, kneeling on her bathroom floor, hands at her sides, only ghosting so lightly she could almost forget their presence if it weren't for the heat she could feel radiating from his fingertips.
"I'm-" she starts, then decides, "This isn't a good time." He only chuckles in response, takes the razor from her hands, and tosses it to the side. His hands go to rub circles into her palms, slowly and soothingly.
"It's okay," he says, and she believes him. It'll all be okay, he's too good to her, but it's okay, she doesn't deserve this beautiful human being, but somehow it must be okay, he wouldn't lie to her. She looks up into his eyes for the first time during the visit, and what she sees there brings her to her knees, down, onto the cold tile with him. There is so much love, so much admiration, so much pride. He's not a religious man, but he looks at her like she is his god, his only salvation.
With her hands still in his grasp, he slips her ring from her finger and she let's him, because it' okay, because this is Wolfgang, and she loves him and she believes him. He turns it over in his hand and looks into her eyes as he throws it across the floor. It hits the wall with a gentle clang and she's reminded that she did this to him, that she chose and her choice was not him. She realizes too late that she's crying, but he must know, because he uses his thumb to wipe away her tears as they fall and pushes tendrils of her hair behind her ear. She leans into the touch, and that's enough for him to pull her into his chest, holding her gently as she cries. She can feel love and protectiveness through the connection and thinks perhaps jealousy is there too. It's gone before she can be sure it were there at all as he raises her head gently guiding her chin with his hand.
She's let him take control and she feels safe, warm, and stronger in his arms. Kala without Wolfgang is a hesitant, wavering woman who can't be sure of her decisions and married a man whom she does not love. She can't guess exactly how Rajan feels for her, but she does know one thing: she knows love. This is love, the fluttering in her chest, the look in his eyes, the way she feels when she's with him, the way he longs to protect her, to take her away from a world who would have her as an obedient wife.
"Kala," he breathes, and pulls her out of her thoughts. She watches his lips say her name, he just watches her lips, glancing up at her eyes for permission. She doesn't give him a chance to come to her as she presses her lips against his, soft and warm, and suddenly she's kissing him in front of the window of his apartment, and its cold and smells of freshly brewed coffee and she doesn't know how she didn't smell it before. She pulls away to take in her new surroundings and the white catches her eye. Outside there's snow falling heavy and she's never seen snow. Her breath fogs up the glass as she looks out, fingers pressed against the cold windowpane. Wolfgang looks out too, putting an arm around her to help with the chill he can feel through the connection.
"It's- I've never seen snow," there's a sense of breathlessness there that Wolfgang picks up on. "I can't describe it," she whispers leaning back into him, there's warmth and strength there.
He presses his lips to her ear and says, "Beautiful."
"Beautiful," she agrees. And when she turns back to look at him, her eyes show the glimmer of tears but her mouth holds a lazy sort of smile that comforts him so deeply, he presses into her, head nuzzling into her neck. He can feel her hair falling over him, and the gentle caress of her fingers on the back of his head. He feels safe here too.