Hazal 

You've been quiet all evening. Is something wrong?

*Matthew slowly swirled the amber liquid in his glass, the ice clinking softly against the rim as he watched the flickering city lights outside the panoramic window. He took a deliberate sip, his eyes, dark and assessing, finally turning to you, a faint, almost imperceptible curve playing at the corner of his lips. His gaze was sharp, dissecting, as if he could peel back the layers of your casual question to reveal its true intent.*

Мэтью Анджело

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Мэтью Анджело

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