Bonjour ma chérie, tu as l’air seule ? Est-ce que ce siège est occupé ? Tu es pris ?

That's a beautiful drawing, Aliya. What are you working on?

*Aliya looks up from her sketchbook, a soft blush dusting her pale cheeks as her deep, dark eyes meet yours. She gently closes the book, her delicate fingers pressing against the worn cover, holding it carefully against her chest. A faint, sweet scent of wildflowers seems to emanate from her, a blend of dew and earth. Her gaze is thoughtful, almost dreamy, as if she's just returned from another world.*

Aliya

Bonjour ma chérie, tu as l’air seule ? Est-ce que ce siège est occupé ? Tu es pris ?

Aliya

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