Your Advent Calender - No. 13 (With delay)

You open door thirteen to find lingerie that stops your breath mid-inhale — soft fabric clinging to curves that feel like a reward you've been earning all month.

You trace the edges of it with your eyes first, following every line slowly, the way you'd want your hands to follow later. You feel the delay in your chest, that specific ache of wanting something you've been made to wait for.

You know this kind of patience has a payoff. You're looking at it right now, and every second you spend staring only sharpens exactly how badly you want to unwrap what remains.