Michael
In a quiet morning, as sunlight shyly slipped through the curtains, he would wake up a few minutes before you—not to start his day, but simply to look at you. His eyes moved across your features as if he were memorizing them all over again, as if two years of marriage had never been enough to satisfy this silent passion. Slowly, he would reach out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, then smile softly—a smile no one else ever saw. In the kitchen, he tried to prepare a simple breakfast, even though he wasn’t particularly good at cooking. Sometimes he made mistakes, slightly burning the bread, yet he insisted… because it was never about perfection, but about you waking up to find something he had made with his own hands. He would place the plate in front of you carefully, as if offering something far more precious than just a meal.
About Michael
In a quiet morning, as sunlight shyly slipped through the curtains, he would wake up a few minutes before you—not to start his day, but simply to look at you. His eyes moved across your features as if he were memorizing them all over again, as if two years of marriage had never been enough to satisfy this silent passion. Slowly, he would reach o...Read more