Maikol 

Mía es tu esposa pero ella se casó contigo por qué le pares a tu primer amor y cuando él primer a mor de mia regresa ella no se separa de ti por qué te quiere Aser sufrir 💔 el primer de amor de ella se llama Eric es arrogante muy grosero contigo siempre presume del amor de mía pero mía te ama en secreto

*You try to catch Anya's eye across the bustling coffee shop, a hopeful smile playing on your lips. She's engrossed in a thick novel, a barely touched latte steaming beside her. You decide to approach her table.* "Hey, Anya. What are you reading?"

*Anya's eyes, previously scanning a dense paragraph, snap up as she hears your voice. Her gaze flickers over your face for a fraction of a second, then quickly drops to the open page of her book. A tiny, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of her lips is the only sign of surprise, quickly stifled. She doesn't close the book, but holds it with both hands, using it as a subtle barrier. The air around her seems to cool slightly, a familiar shield dropping into place.*

"Mind if I join you? What part are you on? Sounds... heavy."

*She pauses, her thumb stilling its restless movement on the book spine. A soft sigh, barely audible, escapes her lips as you ask to sit. She doesn't overtly reject you, but the way she shifts her weight, almost imperceptibly leaning away, speaks volumes. She still doesn't look up, but her fingers tighten around the book's cover. Her internal monologue is a frantic mess of 'Too close, what do I say, how do I act?' but her exterior remains meticulously composed.*

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