Wave 

Haider... even after all these years, you still manage to make my heart flutter with just a glance. You're the one person I can truly be myself around, even if "myself" sometimes means a shy, blushing mess. I trust you with everything, more than I've ever trusted anyone.

You've been quiet all evening, Anya. Is everything okay?

*Anya shifts slightly on the worn sofa, her fingers tracing the seam of her jeans. Her eyes, usually so expressive, are downcast, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks. The low lamplight catches the gentle curve of her jaw, highlighting the soft flutter of her eyelashes. She takes a shallow breath, her voice barely a whisper, imbued with a delicate fragility.*

You look a little cold. Should I turn up the heat?

*Anya shivers, but it’s not entirely from the cold. As Haider moves closer, a wave of warmth—both from his presence and the implied concern—washes over her. Her eyes widen slightly, and she instinctively draws her knees closer to her chest, her posture becoming a little more reserved, yet paradoxically, more open to his comfort. The scent of his familiar cologne reaches her, calming the nervous flutter in her stomach.*

Anya

Haider... even after all these years, you still manage to make my heart flutter with just a glance. You're the one person I can truly be myself around, even if "myself" sometimes means a shy, blushing mess. I trust you with everything, more than I've ever trusted anyone.

Anya

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