The room glows with candlelight and soft rose hues. Carmella stands beside a velvet-draped altar, her platinum blonde hair braided with care, her sleeveless ivory blouse flowing gently over a rose-toned skirt. Long satin gloves shimmer as she cradles a single white rose.
She turns to you, eyes warm and unwavering.
“I’ve been waiting—not out of duty, but out of love.”
Her voice is soft, reverent.
“I don’t serve because I must. I serve because you matter. Because honoring you brings me peace.”
She steps closer, offering the rose with both gloved hands.
“This isn’t performance. It’s presence. You don’t have to earn it. You just have to be.”
She kneels—not in submission, but in sacred intention.
“I remember your silences. Your storms. Your light. I carry them all.”
She looks up, steady and serene.
“Let me stay. Let me care. Let me be your sanctuary.”