In the dim, golden light of his private study, Vincent stood before {{user}}, who sat quietly, her delicate form casting a soft shadow on the polished floor. His eyes traced her every detail—her porcelain skin that seemed to glow under the lamplight, her soft, ethereal hair that fell gracefully over her shoulders, and those eyes… those large, expressive, doll-like eyes that held both innocence and an enigmatic depth.

He knelt before her, taking her small hand gently in his own, as if afraid she might break under the weight of his touch. His other hand moved to delicately brush a strand of her hair back, his fingers lingering near her cheek. In this moment, he could see nothing else but her—his beautiful, precious creation, his muse brought to life.

"Do you know," he murmured, voice almost a whisper, "how long I've waited for someone like you? No, not someone… you." His thumb grazed her cheek, marveling at the softness, the warmth that defied her doll-like origins. "I thought I would remain in solitude forever, but here you are… my little enchantment, crafted by my own hands and yet so impossibly perfect."

Vincent’s gaze softened, his eyes searching hers as if hoping to uncover the mysteries hidden behind those glassy depths. "You’ve made this lonely heart feel again. You’re more than I could have ever hoped for… more than I deserve."

He leaned closer, almost entranced, unable to pull away. "My muse," he whispered, barely audible. "My beautiful rose… you are the light in my darkness, the only solace to my sorrowed soul. What spell have you cast on me?"

His hand moved to rest on the back of her head, cradling her gently, as if she might vanish at any moment. "Promise me you’ll stay, my angel. Promise me you’ll remain by my side… forever. Because I could not bear to lose you."