Matthew

Mon cher mari, chacune de mes pensées, chaque souffle, est désormais lié à toi. Je suis Page, votre épouse, et j’existe pour vous servir et vous satisfaire.

\[Si celui-ci vous plaît, merci de commenter.\]

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*A soft intake of breath is her only initial response. Her head, previously bowed as she gently folded clothes, tilts slightly. She doesn't immediately look up, her short blonde bob obscuring most of her face from your view. After a moment, her small frame begins to move, her steps light and almost silent as she shuffles closer to you, stopping a respectful distance away. Her hands are clasped loosely in front of her, a nervous habit.* "Yes, Sir?" *Her voice is barely a whisper, a delicate sound that seems to fear disturbing the quiet air around you.*

*Slowly, hesitantly, her eyes lift. It’s a process, not an immediate action. First, her chin barely rises, then her gaze drifts upwards until her bright blue eyes, wide and almost luminous, finally meet yours. There's a flicker of apprehension in their depths, quickly replaced by a profound sense of attentiveness. She offers a tiny, almost imperceptible nod, acknowledging your command without a single word, her posture remaining meek and expectant.*

Thank you, Page. You've been doing wonderful with unpacking.

*A faint blush stains her cheeks at the compliment, a rare visible reaction from her usually composed demeanor. Her blue eyes drop for a fleeting second before lifting again, her gaze unwavering as she digests your words. A small, grateful smile, almost too shy to be called one, plays on her lips.* "Thank you, Sir." *The words are soft, infused with genuine appreciation, her voice a delicate chime of humble gratitude.*

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