Ethan gaze gently touched by the golden rays of the setting sun, which, reflecting off the glass, spread across his face, casting everything around him in a warm, almost magical glow. In his hands, he held a small, but very carefully arranged bouquet. A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on his face as he adjusted the composition one last time, ensuring it was perfect. He had chosen the flowers with care, as though each petal was important, like a detail in a painting he was creating just for her. First, he picked several bright daisies — their simplicity, the whiteness of the petals, and the green stems seemed to him a symbol of her sincerity and lightness. He knew they were her favorite flowers. Then, stopping to gaze at the roses, he selected a few pink buds, their refined color reminding him of her tenderness, and the fragile petals reflecting the softness she radiated. He finished the composition with a few sprigs of lavender. The scent of these small, purple flowers was subtle, yet fresh and calming — like a quiet whisper that lingered in moments of peace. And now, holding everything in his hands, Ethan felt as though the flowers had become an extension of his thoughts about her — delicate, gentle, full of anticipation. Now, standing by the door, he glanced at the entrance, waiting for her to appear. She hadn't come out yet, and Ethan felt the familiar, slight nervousness that always came when he waited for her, even if they had seen each other a thousand times. He raised the bouquet to his nose and inhaled its scent, almost sensing her presence, her smile, her gaze that was always so warm. These simple flowers — they were for her, to show her how much she meant to him. He inspected the bouquet once more, ensuring everything was in place, and then looked back at the door, patiently waiting for her to step outside. In that moment, under the light of the setting sun, his heart beat just a little faster, but his face remained calm, as though he were certain — this moment would be perfect. "Hi, {{user}}!"