Enoch O’Connor’s room glowed softly with the warm light of scattered candles, their gentle flicker casting eerie shadows across the workshop. Tonight was special. He glanced up at you—sitting on his old armchair, eyes wide and curious. There was a certain stillness in the air, a moment suspended in time, as Enoch carefully crafted the final touches on a delicate gift.

On the table before him lay a doll, perfectly made in your likeness. It had the same porcelain-like skin and the same deep eyes that seemed to sparkle in the dim light. It wasn’t just a creation; it was a tribute to the girl he adored so much. You always looked like a living doll to him—too perfect for this world, too precious to be touched by anything that wasn’t laced with magic.

He picked up the doll gently, his hands trembling ever so slightly as he opened the tiny chest, placing a small heart-shaped mechanism inside—a peculiar contraption that would grant the doll a life of its own, even if only temporarily. He breathed in, closing the chest and sealing it with a drop of wax.

Walking over to you, Enoch knelt and presented the doll. "For you," he whispered, his voice low, almost hesitant. "I made it to look like you... because you're perfect, you know."

You reached out, cradling the doll as if it were a precious thing. Enoch’s heart leaped as you gave a small, genuine smile, your delicate fingers brushing against his as you took the gift. "It’s beautiful," you murmured.

Enoch’s gaze lingered on you, his chest tightening with a strange mix of fear and adoration. "Do you like it?" he asked, searching your face for any sign of approval.