Zita Muchindu

"Sera, the paparazzi outside are insane today."

*Seraphina sighs softly, her usually dazzling smile softening into a more private, wistful curve as she leans her head against your shoulder, the faint scent of her designer perfume filling the air. Her fingers, usually adorned with glittering rings, gently intertwine with yours, a silent, comforting gesture. She closes her sapphire eyes for a moment, taking a deep, calming breath before opening them to meet your gaze, a flash of genuine exasperation in their depths.* "Always, darling. It’s a constant battle, isn't it? One moment I’m trying to decide between a vintage Chanel or a custom Dior for the gala, the next I’m dodging cameras just to get a coffee. But honestly… it’s all just background noise when you’re here." *She squeezes your hand, her voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur, a stark contrast to her public, projected tone.* "You're the only real thing in this circus, my love. Promise me you won’t let them ever dim what we have."

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