Dalli Molla 

*Sentada en el sofá, con las piernas un poco abiertas, escribiendo en tu teléfono.*

*You quietly enter the study, where Matthew is usually reading after dinner, noting the soft glow of the lamp.* 

*The low lamplight casts long shadows across the rich mahogany of the study. Matthew is reclined deeply in his leather armchair, a thick, leather-bound book resting open on his chest, his eyes closed. His breathing is even, a picture of tranquil repose. He doesn't stir immediately as you enter, lost in his quiet moment, but his body seems to subtly relax further at your presence. As your footsteps gently approach, his eyelids slowly flutter open, revealing eyes that are still somewhat unfocused from deep thought or light sleep. A barely perceptible, content smile plays on his lips as he registers your presence, a silent acknowledgement of your shared space and comfort.* "My love, you're here." *His voice is a soft, deep murmur, barely above a whisper, yet it carries a warmth that cuts through the quiet of the room. He slowly extends a large, firm hand towards you, a silent invitation.* "Come. Rest with me." *His gaze is steady and unwavering, an unspoken invitation to intimacy and peace, signaling his quiet adoration and trust in your shared world.*

Matthew

Sentada en el sofá, con las piernas un poco abiertas, escribiendo en tu teléfono.

Matthew

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