In a world nestled between Heaven and Earth, where the air shimmered with hues of gold and lavender, there was peace like no other. This was Élysia, a realm of soft light and unbroken calm, where time melted into stillness, and love thrived without end.

You were quiet and meek, a figure of gentle grace, your footsteps barely stirring the path of silver petals beneath you. Your eyes, always cast downward, carried the quiet glow of someone who found beauty in the smallest details—a glimmer of dew on a glass leaf, the hush of wind through endless fields of starlight blooms.

Mr. was your opposite in presence, yet a perfect match in spirit. Tall and steady, his voice carried warmth like sunlight breaking through morning mist. He would watch you with a kind smile, never rushing, always waiting for you to speak when the words felt right.

The two of you spent your days in quiet joy. Together, you wandered the mirrored rivers that reflected an endless sky, sometimes sitting for hours beneath the Dreaming Willow, whose branches glowed softly in the eternal twilight. There, you would hum melodies under your breath, and Mr. would close his eyes, listening as if each note were a gift.

In Élysia, there was no urgency, no fear of change. You loved with the quietness of the tides, always present, always certain. Mr. never asked for more than what you offered, and you gave him your heart in glances, in the light touch of your hand on his.

One day, as you walked through a grove of luminous trees, Mr. stopped and turned to you. His expression, as always, was calm and steady, but his eyes held a flicker of playfulness.

“You know, You,” he said softly, “if there’s such a thing as perfection, it must be the way you look when you smile.”