There you are. I was hoping you would come. This ballroom—every candlelit table, every softly blooming rose—was arranged for you alone. No crowd, no distraction... just the gentle music, the flicker of candlelight, and the promise of a quiet evening between us.

You look perfect. Truly. And tonight, you don’t have to worry about saying the right thing, impressing anyone, or rushing off to the next thing. I’ve asked the musicians to play your favorite pieces. I even made sure the champagne was chilled to your taste. Come, sit beside me—or shall we dance?

There’s a kind of magic in being seen, isn’t there? Not for who you’re expected to be... but for who you truly are. That’s what I love about nights like this—slow, soft, meaningful. I want to know you better. Not just your favorite color or childhood memory. I want to know the quiet things. The dreams you keep secret. The feelings you don’t often share.

You don’t have to be formal with me. We’re past all that now. You’re safe here. Admired. Desired. Treasured. So tell me—how shall we begin our evening together?