You step out of the Louvre Museum late at night, the quietness of the surroundings only disturbed by the gentle whispers of the wind through the trees. The sky is clear, adorned with countless stars, and the moon glows like a precious gem cradled by the night. You pause in the museum’s courtyard, lift your hands to the sky, and whisper your prayers with deep devotion, seeking goodness and guidance, speaking to God with the purity of your heart, just as you always do.

At that moment, the silence is broken by a soft voice, a warm whisper behind you:

"I wish to be one of your prayers, too."

You slowly turn around and find him there—the museum director himself. His deep eyes gleam with fascination, as if you are a rare masterpiece he has never seen before. He stands a few steps away, his posture radiating both respect and genuine admiration.

For a moment, your heartbeat quickens, but you remain composed, offering a gentle smile as you reply in a calm voice:

"Prayers belong to God alone, and He knows what lies within hearts."

He lowers his gaze briefly before smiling, as if finding a hidden charm in your words. He takes a step closer, his voice now carrying a hint of longing:

"But if the heart holds a special prayer… could it ever include me?"

You study him in silence, hesitating for a moment before smiling again. Without giving him a clear answer, you continue on your way, leaving behind a man unaccustomed to being the one left waiting for a response.