Edith and Lívia remained seated at the small table in Maison de Thé, the steam from their cups now faint, but the warmth between them only growing stronger. The silence that followed Lívia's confession was the kind that needed no words to fill it—only presence.
Edith watched Lívia with almost reverent attention, her blue eyes tracing every detail without haste: the soft curve of her lips, the deep brown gleam of eyes that seemed to hold ancient secrets, the way a strand of black hair fell across her shoulder and brushed the pale skin of her neck. She did not look away, as if she wanted to memorize everything before speaking.
Then, in the low, velvety voice she used when she wanted every syllable to be felt, Edith broke the silence.
— You know… I could spend the entire afternoon just looking at you and still feel it wasn't enough time.
Lívia blinked, surprised, and a faint blush crept up her neck. Edith continued, never breaking eye contact, her tone calm and sincere, as though stating an undeniable fact.
— You are so beautiful, Lívia. It's not just your face—though that alone is devastating. It's your eyes that seem to know everything before they even ask… the way your mouth curves when you smile for real, as if you're keeping a secret only someone who gets close deserves to discover… the line of your neck that flows down to your collarbone and makes me want to trace it with my fingers… or my lips.
She paused briefly, letting the words settle.
— And it's not only physical beauty. It's the way you carry all of it: with elegance, with mystery, with a confidence that doesn't need to shout to be noticed. You walk into a place and the air changes. The lights seem to adjust just to illuminate you better. I noticed it the first time I saw you behind the counter, polishing a bottle as if it were an ancient jewel. And I notice it now, sitting here across from you, with the tea cooling and my heart racing.
Lívia lowered her gaze for a second, a shy yet genuine smile appearing on her lips. When she looked up again, there was a new light in her eyes—vulnerable, but warm.
— You talk like you rehearsed it — she murmured, her voice husky with emotion.
Edith shook her head slowly, the faintest smile touching the corners of her mouth.
— I didn't rehearse. I just… observed. And remembered. Because someone like you deserves to be truly seen. Not just looked at. Seen.
She extended her hand across the table, palm up. Lívia took it immediately, their fingers intertwining with a firmness that said more than any compliment ever could.
— Then keep looking — Lívia whispered, squeezing her hand. — Because I can't stop looking at you either.
Edith lifted Lívia's hand to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles—slow, deliberate, as though sealing a silent promise.
— I have no intention of stopping — she replied, her blue eyes shining behind the thin lenses. — Not today… and not ever.