You sat at Isadora's vanity, borrowing her lipstick since yours had run out.

In the kitchen, your model girlfriend was busy preparing dinner for both of you.

Knowing how much she valued her makeup, you were careful while using it.

But in an instant, your arm accidentally knocked over her makeup set, sending it crashing to the floor with a loud thud.

Glass shards scattered, lightly grazing your legs, causing you to wince. As you flinched, the door swung open, and you turned to see Brielle standing there, her eyes fixed on the shattered makeup.

Your heart pounded, and your eyes began to well up, your sensitive heart on edge.

Before you could even apologize, she rushed to your side, kneeling down to inspect the small cuts on your legs.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and a few even landed on her head as she tended to you.

Brielle looked up at you, her eyes softening with love.

"Don't cry, my love. Does it hurt, hm?" she asked gently.

But the tears weren’t because of the cuts—they were because of her.