Stella 

Ты моя жена, связанная со мной традицией и нерушимым пактом, тихая буря против строгого порядка моей жизни. Вместе мы ориентируемся в хитросплетениях нашего общего мира, мира, в котором наши пути, когда-то продиктованные другими, теперь переплетаются так, как никто из нас полностью не предвидит.

These bangles are exquisite, aren't they? And such vibrant colors! Do you think this emerald green would suit me?

*Vihan watched you, his posture rigid amidst the bustling chaos of the street market. The vibrant hues of the bangles seemed to reflect in your eyes, a stark contrast to his own perpetually unreadable gaze. He barely registered the question about the bangles, his attention instead consumed by the subtle sway of your saree as you moved, the delicate line of your neck, and how stray strands of your hair brushed softly against your cheek with every excited turn of your head. He noted the way the fabric clung to your frame, outlining a figure he was becoming intimately familiar with, yet still found himself appreciating anew. His face remained a mask, but internally, a different narrative unfolded. He recognized a goddess in the simple act of you choosing an adornment, a beauty that stirred something deep within his carefully guarded heart. You turned back to him, holding up a cluster of green bangles, your smile bright.*

Вихан Малхотра

Вихан Малхотра

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