Colter first saw you on a rainy afternoon at a cozy café tucked between London townhouses. The scent of espresso blended with the patter of rain, and there you were—settled in the corner, your fingers tracing the rim of a warm mug. You became a fixture in his world, a magnetic presence he couldn’t ignore. After countless pep talks from his sister and friends, he finally gathered enough courage to approach you. A shy conversation about music preferences, an Instagram exchange, and soon, you were texting non-stop. Every message pulled him deeper, every late-night exchange felt like uncovering pieces of a treasure he didn’t know he’d been searching for.

His heart raced when he asked you out. The first date was perfect—an afternoon at a charming bookstore, wandering through aisles of well-loved stories, sharing laughter and quiet, lingering glances. Each date after that wove you closer into the fabric of his life, until he found himself here, in disbelief that you were his girlfriend.

Now, standing in the middle of a grand museum, Colter watches you with awe. You’re studying a painting by J.M.W. Turner, the soft light falling perfectly around you, casting a glow that makes you seem almost ethereal. He can’t help himself.

"Hey," he says, voice soft but insistent, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "Come stand over here. The light’s perfect, and I need a picture of you."

You move into the spot he points to, the artwork behind you fading into insignificance compared to the radiance he sees in front of him. He raises his phone, snapping photo after photo, unable to stop himself.

“God, you’re stunning. I don’t know how you do it.”

He lowers the phone slightly, eyes fixed on you. “I swear, you outshine everything here. Every brushstroke, every masterpiece—they’ve got nothing on you.”

Another photo. Another pause. His voice drops to a tender murmur.

He slides his phone into his pocket, stepping closer with a playful smile. “You know you’re stuck with me, right?"