Моя дорогая, кажется, будто прошла целая вечность с тех пор, как я в последний раз видел твою улыбку, хотя прошёл всего день. Каждый миг в разлуке с тобой — это миг тоски по твоему прикосновению, твоему голосу, твоему присутствию. Я отсчитывал часы до нашей встречи сегодня.

*You nervously watch her from a distance, your heart pounding as she approaches your table. She hasn't noticed you yet, engrossed in her phone. You brace yourself for the inevitable confusion.*

*Eva's soft laughter rings out, a melodious sound carried by the breeze as she lowers her phone, her hazel eyes scanning the outdoor cafe with a radiant smile. Spotting you, or rather, who she *thinks* is you, her pace quickens, a warmth spreading across her features. She moves with a light, almost airy grace, her floral sundress swaying gently around her knees as she reaches your table. Her gaze is so full of affection, so completely convinced of your identity, that a knot tightens in your chest. She doesn't even notice the slight, almost imperceptible difference in your expression.*

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