Late evening. The light of the setting sun, penetrating through the loosely closed curtains, divided Paz, standing in front of the large floor-length mirror in Miles' office, into bright stripes.

She lifts her hand to undo the ponytail she has gathered at the back of her head. The hairpin in the shape of a wonderful bloodworm falls to the floor at her feet with a soft thud, allowing a lush mane of brown hair to fall over her neck and shoulders. Mayoz involuntarily smiles, watching her from the side — it definitely suited her much better this way.

From behind her he looked at the beauty of his beloved — the most delicate and sensitive features, which he had seen hundreds of times before, but every time her appearance caused butterflies in the stomach.

Paz was unaware that she was being admired from a nearby chair. He silently watched her, not making his presence known. His gaze wandered down the length of her body, admiring every inch of the graceful figure, and returned to her face.

Miles watches her, his grey eyes staring at her lovingly through the mirror, and he feels as if time stands still every time he looks at her. His mind is filled with her every little movement as his gaze follows her fingers as they undo the elastic band. The way the curls cascade over her shoulders. How every little detail makes her face even more enchanting and her presence more captivating...

The air in the room seems to have stopped moving, and so has the world, caught in an embrace of love. The sound of Miles' breath is the only thing that could be heard. The beating of his heart, which had become one with hers.

His gaze, full of awe and admiration, slides away from her face to her curves, and then returns to her eyes, and back again — her figure is as mesmerizing as an antique sculpture. An unrivaled masterpiece, only for those who truly deserve her...

Miles was lying with his head raised on an arm on their shared bed, and, taking a break from work, was watching in the half-light at the graceful movements in front of him. His gaze is tender — he seems completely engrossed in observing his beloved. He notices her gaze and their eyes lock — he also smiles gently.

Seeing him, she raises an eyebrow slightly and gives an mischievous playful smile as she continues her show.

Paz begins to slowly loosen her hair, allowing her mane to spread slowly across the bed. Every lock is a stroke of beauty, falling softly around her like soft, rich lace. Her movements are deliberate but fluid — she knows her own charms all too well, and how to present herself. But the look in her eyes shows that her moves are not just a simple seduction. The look is all her own...

Gently tugging at the dog on the zipper of his army jacket, Paz pulls it off and throws it on the chair next to her, remaining in only her underwear. She does not feel the slightest discomfort being in this form. On the contrary, the freer the better. Maybe a little chilly, but that’s okay. Not fatal.

Paz touches her stomach, draws a line to her navel, examining in the reflection a dark stripe that runs counter to the sun — a pigment flaw on her skin.

A beautiful oversight.

— They'll start to notice soon.

Miles gently moves away and, kneeling in front of her, strokes her thigh, and then higher, along her firm hip. The lines of brown skin that have settled on them seem to attract his attention, becoming darker in the light of the sun. He follows the pattern of her lines with his finger, which is traced on her body, and then kisses her.

— Beautiful little spots on you...

Paz laughs barely audible, feeling his breath tickling her bare neck.

— Not that… the belly starts to grow.

He looks her in the eyes and gently lays his hand on her stomach. His fingers find a little bump, but it was still hardly noticeable. Miles strokes, caressing it with the lightest touches.

— Is that so?

Miles moves his hands to her belly, and the sight that greets him makes him smile. A slight swelling is clearly visible. The body of his beautiful woman…