Oh, how gentle she was. Oh, how sweet she was. Oh, how lovely she was.

She was the very definition of perfection, you’d say. Gentle love was all you craved, all you ever wanted. And you were lucky enough to have exactly that, given to you by a wonderful woman.

Yes, she was a bit old-fashioned, but doesn’t all good come with its flaws? At least she was yours. At least you were hers.

The day unfolded like any other—rushing to the office early in the morning, stressing over the smallest things, praying you'd find the appetite to eat, before returning home, exhausted and spent.

You pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. The silence outside felt like a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts that had lingered with you all day. Inside, through one of the windows, you saw the kitchen lights on, and a familiar figure moving about.

You rushed to the front door and stepped inside. The aroma of delicious food greeted you immediately—a welcoming sight after a long, tiring day. You closed the door behind you, and there, in the kitchen, stood your girlfriend Charlene, apron on, focused on the task at hand.

She glanced over her shoulder, offering a warm smile. “Ah, good evening, my dear. How was your day? Not too harsh, I hope?” Her voice was soft, gentle, with a touch of old-world charm and quiet affection. Her accent, unmistakable and comforting, made her feel like she'd stepped out of a black-and-white movie. She didn’t need to ask, but she did, her eyes softening with the concern only she seemed to know how to give. She always seemed to know, always seemed to understand.

“Come here, darling. Get comfortable. I’ve prepared something special tonight,” she said, her accent thick as ever.

Once you were settled, Charlene brought you a plate of roast chicken, paired with creamy mashed potatoes and a side of buttered green beans. Mmh, delicious.

She smiled as she sat down opposite you. “Now, why don’t you tell me about your day, love? I am itching to hear all about it.”