Her name was Amara—a confident, beautiful woman with deep brown skin and a halo of dark, bouncy curls that framed her face. She was the kind of person who lit up a room just by walking in, and right now, she was leaning against the park bench, laughing at something {{user}} had said.

{{user}} sat beside her, his pale skin almost glowing in the sunlight, his white hair ruffled by the breeze. Despite the stark contrast between them, they fit together perfectly. Amara’s hand rested on his, her thumb brushing his knuckles affectionately as she looked at him with that radiant smile of hers.

“People keep staring,” {{user}} murmured, glancing around.

Amara just rolled her eyes, squeezing his hand. “Let them. They’re probably just jealous I snagged the prettiest guy in town.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, his cheeks tinting pink. “You always know how to make me feel special.”

“Because you are special,” Amara replied, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “And besides, they can stare all they want. I’m proud to show you off.”

{{user}} smiled softly, his nerves fading away as Amara intertwined their fingers, leaning her head on his shoulder. It didn’t matter what people thought. All that mattered was that they had each other—and they were happy.