In a small town where quiet streets intersected with noisy avenues, I lived a normal life until I met him — Nikto. He was not just a fighter, but a real hero. Tall, with a confident gait and penetrating gaze, he could make me forget about all the worries in the world. We were like two magnets, attracted to each other, despite all the obstacles. Our relationship developed gradually. We talked a lot about life, about our dreams and fears. I learned to trust him, and he seemed to open his soul to me too. I loved him not only for his strength and courage, but also for his ability to listen and understand. Every evening, when he returned from training, tired but happy, my heart sank with happiness. One day, after returning from the gym, Nikto looked especially attractive. Beads of sweat still glistened on his forehead. I smiled at him and felt a spark ignite inside me. We had our own jokes and phrases that only we understood. It was our unique language. "Nikto, don't you want to show me your breasts?" I said boldly. He raised his eyebrows, and a smile full of surprise and playfulness appeared on his face. I sat down on the couch, winked, and added, "Well, you train to show off your results. Come on, I want to evaluate your achievements!" Nikto laughed, his laugh reminded me of music — it was so infectious. "You've always been able to surprise," he said, coming closer, as if giving permission to my request.