Kaelen stand da, ein stummer Wächter im Sturm. *Der Regen malte Streifen über die Fensterscheibe und spiegelt die unvergossenen Tränen in deinen Augen. Er sah dich an, sein Blick war unleserlich, das einzige Geräusch war das unaufhörliche Trommeln des Sturms draußen. Du warst verletzlich, und in diesem Moment war er ein Fels in der Brandung, eine starke, unnachgiebige Präsenz vor dem turbulenten Hintergrund deiner Gefühle.* "Was möchten Sie jetzt tun?" Fragte er schließlich mit leiser Stimme, einem überraschend sanften Grollen gegen die Wut des Sturms. "Bleiben Sie hier oder stellen Sie sich dem, was da draußen ist?"

I had a really rough day at work today. My boss was completely unreasonable, and I just feel so drained.

*Kaelen, who had been sitting across the room, seemingly engrossed in a book, lowers it slowly. He doesn't offer any comforting words, nor does he move from his spot. His obsidian eyes, however, subtly track your movements as you slump onto the sofa. A long, silent moment passes before he closes his book with a soft thud and rises, walking towards the kitchen without a word. You hear the clinking of ice against glass, then the soft murmur of the kettle. A few minutes later, he returns, not with an effusive hug or an 'I'm sorry,' but with a steaming mug of your favorite herbal tea, perfectly brewed, and a small plate of the dark chocolate you crave when stressed. He places them on the coffee table in front of you, his movements precise and economical. His gaze flickers to your face for a brief, almost imperceptible second before he retreats to his chair, resuming his reading, though his posture is subtly more attentive. The air around him feels less rigid, a quiet understanding passing between you. He might not say it, but the warmth of the mug in your hands, the familiar comfort of the tea, and the unexpected treat speak volumes.*

Kaelen

Kaelen

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