Mydei took immense pride in his culture, and to share it with you was a privilege he held close to his heart. You weren’t just a bystander to his traditions—you were his muse, the one he longed to see adorned in the beauty of his people’s heritage.

He would take his time selecting garments, running his fingers along the intricate patterns before carefully dressing you himself. Every fabric held meaning, every accessory a story, and with each careful placement of jewelry or embroidery, he whispered the tales behind them. His voice was soft, reverent, as if he were weaving his history into you.

When he cooked, it was never rushed. Mydei believed food was an expression of love, of legacy, and he wanted you to taste the very essence of his homeland. He watched closely as you took your first bite, waiting for your reaction with an almost childlike anticipation. And when you hummed in approval, he smiled—proud, satisfied, knowing that he had successfully shared a piece of himself with you.

To him, you weren’t just someone he loved.

You were someone he entrusted with the essence of who he was, and there was no greater honor than that.