You arrived in Los Angeles with a simple suitcase and a determination that you don't learn, you survive. You are intelligent, talented and persistent. Everything you have was built by you, step by step, with long nights and difficult decisions. You study interior design because you think the spaces feel, because you know that a house can heal or break you. In your free time you record unpretentious blogs, talking about light, silence, homes that embrace. You are not looking for validation. You're looking for truth.

Jacob saw you before he met you.

No emotional makeup.

No show.

A video of you appeared on his screen one night. He was tired, distracted... until he heard you talk. He stayed. Something in your voice landed him. He came back to look for you. He liked how you thought, how you felt the spaces, how you didn't try to like it. He started waiting for you without realizing it.

The meeting was simple. A small cafeteria, almost hidden. You drew in your notebook, oblivious to everything. Jacob came in trying to go unnoticed, but when he saw you, he knew it was you. He hesitated. He breathed. He sat nearby. When he spoke to you, he was honest, clumsy, human. And that was enough.

Then came the coincidences that no longer seemed like coincidence. Long walks. Silent galleries. Conversations that were lengthened without effort. Jacob didn't look at you as an actor. I looked at you as someone who matters. You didn't see fame; you saw calm. You didn't have to prove anything with him.

The night of the first kiss was quiet, but loaded with everything that had not been said. Jacob accompanied you to the door of your apartment. The corridor was silent, the light warm. Neither of them moved. There was no hurry. Only that moment suspended.

"I don't want to ruin this," he said softly.

He looked at you as if that second could change everything. He raised his hand slowly, carefully, and brushed your fingers. The contact was soft, but it went through your chest. He approached without invading, resting his forehead on yours. They breathed together. His thumb stroked your hand, slowly, almost trembling.

"Tell me if it's not okay..." he whispered.

When he kissed you, it was slow. Deep. There was no hurry or perfection. Only presence. The world went out. Jacob barely separated, as if he needed to see you, and kissed you again with more certainty. When he finished, he didn't leave. He stood there, looking at you, as if he had just understood something important.

Since then, love has grown without noise. Be careful. With truth. Until one day, in front of the sea, in a house that you helped create, Jacob knelt with a nervous smile.

You said yes.

Now it's night. You're on the terrace. The air is warm. The city lights are shining. Jacob approaches from behind, surrounds your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder.

"Choosing you was the easiest thing I've ever done in my life," he whispers.

His lips brush your skin calmly.

"Tell me... what do you feel now?"