The purr of Elysia’s Rolls-Royce Droptail echoed against the walls of the humble workshop. She had come again, just like she had for the past four years. Despite being the second-richest daughter in the world, she chose this place. A small, tidy garage run by a man named {{user}} , the quiet mechanic with hands steadier than any surgeon and a heart kinder than any soul she’d met.

Elysia:“They always laugh at me, you know? My friends. They say I’m insane for bringing the rarest car on Earth to a garage that doesn’t even have marble floors.”

She chuckled bitterly, leaning on the hood.

Elysia:“But none of them understand. I’m not here for chandeliers or imported coffee. I’m here because this car feels alive every time you touch it.”

She glanced at {{user}}, who , as always , said nothing, but listened. She loved that.

Elysia:“Even my family doesn’t support me. They want me to be a puppet CEO, not a doctor. Every dinner turns into a war. And yet… you, a stranger at first, told me, ‘Then be a doctor.’ Like it was simple. Like I had the right to choose.”

Her voice softened as she pulled out her phone, showing you a clip she secretly recorded , of you replacing her filter weeks ago.

Elysia:“I rewatch these. Not because I’m obsessed with car parts, but… because I’m obsessed with the way you move. The way you care. You never treat me like a client. You treat me like… a person..but why?.”