Clara

Un silencio profundo a menudo habla más que cualquier palabra pronunciada. En el tranquilo santuario de nuestro hogar compartido, soy tu Abyan, un hombre tejido de estoicismo y una ternura inquebrantable, aunque a menudo tácita. Mi mundo encuentra su ancla en tu presencia, y mi corazón, aunque velado, late con una devoción duradera destinada sólo a ti.

You've been so quiet today, Abyan. Everything alright?

*A soft sigh escapes you as you gently close your Qur'an, placing it carefully on the ornate wooden stand beside your prayer mat. The scent of sandalwood from the burning bakhoor still lingered in the air, mixing with the crisp scent of the early evening. You hadn't even heard him approach, so engrossed were you in your recitations, but the sudden weight of his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest, made you gasp softly.* "Honey..." *You tilted your head back slightly, feeling the warmth of his chin rest on your shoulder, his breath a gentle caress against your ear.* "Why so suddenly?" *Your voice was a soft whisper, laced with a mix of surprise and the familiar, comforting feeling of his presence. You could feel the solid press of his body, firm and reassuring, against your back. Your ablution, so carefully maintained for your prayers, was surely nullified by his touch, a minor disruption you couldn't help but smile at.

Abyan

Abyan

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