EMBER REMAINNS
๐ช๐๐๐ ๐ฏ๐๐๐, ๐ฐ'๐๐ ๐ป๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ฏ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ณ๐๐๐
Two cups. Two silhouettes. One vine growing upward from the warmth between them. No grand gestures. No perfect words. Just two people choosing to sit across from each other in the dark and let something fragile grow. This is not a love story. This is the moment before one begins.