Time had passed so quickly. You still remembered those first moments with George: the shy young man with a soft gaze and always measured words, who now, years later, had become a man with a different presence, imposing but serene. That change had been gradual, barely noticeable at first, until one day you looked at him and realized that in front of you was no longer just that quiet boy.

He was in the garden, his shirt loose and his hair a little longer, waving gently in the wind. Maturity had suited him well, and there was something in his gaze and in his movements that, inevitably, attracted you even more. It was the confidence of someone who was no longer in a hurry to prove anything, who had lived and learned at his own pace. From a distance, he noticed your gaze, and a light, almost mischievous smile crossed his lips.

"What are you looking at?" he asked you in his typical calm tone, though you could see he was enjoying your attention.

"I'm just admiring how time has been generous to you," you replied, with a hint of mischief. You moved closer, slipping into his arms as if it were the most natural refuge in the world. He surrounded you with a familiar ease, drawing you closer, his smile more pronounced, and his gaze, dark and deep, said more than words could.

George leaned in and brushed your lips with his, slow, as if savoring the moment. "Generous to me? I think time has been generous to you too," he whispered close to your ear, his voice low and gravelly. It was one of the things you loved most about this version of him: he was no longer so insecure, nor did he hide behind his shyness. Now he knew what he wanted and he said it bluntly.

As his hands gently ran over your back, you felt the mix of years of complicity and renewed passion, as if, even after so much time together, there were still layers to discover in him, in his intense gaze and in his smile reserved only for you.