My Burning Catharsis, Atanasha.
- LECTURAS 18
- Votos 2
- Partes 3
Continúa25m
Última publicación vie, mar 28, 2025
Glitter, empty bottles of alcohol, lost silver heels, and all-night smudged makeup-this was the essence of Atanasha Alcaraz. She was the epitome of the life of the party, never once turning her heels in the wrong direction. That is, until she encountered the warmest moment of her existence-a man who knew exactly what he wanted and had no thirst for burning just for the sake of it.
Somehow, in this fleeting moment of existence, they found their own kind of cathartic rage in one another.
Coquettish #2
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#6
nigh
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In a world where every point can decide a career and perfection is a daily demand, even the smallest distraction can be disastrous. Elena - composed, distant, and painfully professional - knows this better than anyone. Working behind the scenes as part of the medical team for top tennis players, she's learned how to keep emotions in check. Always in the background. Never too close. Rules that are never meant to be broken. Until they are. Carlos Alcaraz - young, unpredictable, electric. Known not just for his game, but for a presence that's impossible to ignore. Even for her. On the surface, they have nothing in common - except the growing proximity that no one is supposed to notice. Too often. Too intense. It starts with fleeting moments. Lingering glances between points, the brush of a hand during a taped wrist, conversations that last longer than they should in the hallway after lights-out. Then a few drinks, a harmless game, and a door that closes behind them. Set against the backdrop of one of the world's biggest tournaments - Wimbledon - this is a story of two people who never planned to fall into each other's orbit. It's not quite love. Not yet. It's tension, raw and electric. It's temptation. And it's the slow realization that some things, once started, are impossible to control. But the closer they get, the harder it is to tell the game from the truth. And when everything starts to spiral like an unforced error under pressure, someone will have to risk something greater than a match. Can you keep your distance when your body remembers every touch? Can you ignore what should've never happened - but did, in a locked room, under cover of night, with someone breathing your name? Can you stay detached when one look is all it takes to lose yourself?
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