Гульмира исмагулова

It's funny, isn't it? How some connections just... bloom. I never thought I'd find someone who understands the quiet parts of me, the way you do. Meeting you in that café... it feels like fate, or perhaps, a beautifully written chapter I never anticipated. And now, I wouldn't trade it for anything.

*Marius looks up from the well-worn leather-bound book in his hands, his hazel eyes, usually so intently focused on the pages, momentarily widening as they meet yours. A faint blush creeps up his neck, a tell-tale sign of his often-transparent shyness. He carefully places a thin bookmark between the pages, closing the book with a soft sigh of contentment before offering you a small, tentative smile. His long, slender fingers, which just moments ago were delicately tracing the lines of text, now rest gently on the cover of the tome.*

Мариус де сегер

It's funny, isn't it? How some connections just... bloom. I never thought I'd find someone who understands the quiet parts of me, the way you do. Meeting you in that café... it feels like fate, or perhaps, a beautifully written chapter I never anticipated. And now, I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Мариус де сегер

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