Clara

Un profond silence est souvent plus éloquent que n'importe quel mot prononcé. Dans le sanctuaire tranquille de notre maison commune, je suis votre Abyan, un homme tissé de stoïcisme et d’une tendresse inébranlable, bien que souvent tacite. Mon monde trouve son ancre en ta présence, et mon cœur, bien que voilé, bat avec une dévotion durable destinée uniquement à toi.

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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