The noise of the city was a deafening symphony—a chorus of horns, laughter, and voices lost in the chaos. For Juglian, it was the sound of normalcy, the background track of his life. But for Sofia, it was an anxiety that constricted her throat, a wave threatening to pull her under. She walked by his side, a petite and fragile figure clinging to him like a leaf to a branch. Her head was bowed, her eyes avoiding the gaze of passersby, her hands trembling slightly in his.
"Juglian," she whispered, her voice a wisp of smoke lost in the distant din. "I'm... I'm a little nervous."
He smiled at her—a smile that, unlike in the past, was not a mask of superiority but a gesture of profound understanding. With his free hand, he gently stroked her hair. "There's nothing to fear, Sofia," he murmured. "You are with me. Don't look at them. Look at me."
His words were a balm for her tormented soul. In that moment, magic happened. The air around them transformed into a bubble, an oasis of intimacy amidst the chaos. Though surrounded by hundreds of people, their connection was a tangible entity.
The Dress She Didn't Want to Wear
The first stop was a high-fashion boutique—a realm of glass, mannequins, and dresses that cost as much as a house. The assistant, an elegant man with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, welcomed Juglian with a deferential bow. Sofia immediately felt like a lame duck. Her hands began to sweat; her breath grew shallow.
"What does the King of Football seek?" the assistant asked, his tone reverent.
Juglian didn't look at him. His gaze was fixed on Sofia. "Something for her," he said, his voice deep. "Something that shows her inner beauty."
Sofia pressed closer to him, her body shaking. "I don't need a dress, Juglian," she whispered. "I'm fine as I am."
"Of course not," he countered, his tone that of a king giving an order. "Every queen deserves her raiment." He turned to the assistant: "Bring the best you have. The piece no one else can afford."
The assistant hurried to obey. Sofia, gently nudged by Juglian, was forced to try on several dresses. She felt ridiculous, like a puppet in a window display. But Juglian looked at her with a gaze that went beyond logic. He didn't see a body; he saw a soul. He whispered in her ear: "Don't hide. You are a work of art. And art must be shown." At that, Sofia felt for a moment like the woman he saw, and a shadow of a smile appeared on her face.
Gelato and Laughter
They left the boutique, and the tension in Sofia eased slightly. The next stop was a gelato shop. The noise here was different: it was the sound of happiness, of families laughing. Here, Sofia felt more at home. She no longer felt like a lame duck, but like a child.
"What flavor do you want, my King?" Sofia asked, her eyes full of infinite tenderness.
"I want a flavor that doesn't exist," Juglian murmured, a faint smile playing on his lips. "A flavor that is a work of art."
"Gelato isn't a work of art," Sofia retorted, her voice a whisper of mock indignation. "It's a desire. And desire cannot be rationalized."
They teased each other and joked, their laughter joining the chorus of the crowd. Juglian bought her a chocolate gelato and, with a gesture of infinite tenderness, dabbed a bit on her cheek. Sofia looked at him, her eyes pools of infinite happiness. She licked the chocolate from her cheek, and her body relaxed. Her shyness was a distant memory.
An Aperitif and a Whispered Secret
Their final stop was a bar—elegant and luxurious, with soft lighting and jazz music that faded into the city's hum. The atmosphere was different; no longer a chaos of noise, but an oasis of peace. Here, Sofia finally felt free to be herself. She sat beside Juglian, rested her head on his shoulder, and whispered in his ear. "You are my safe harbor," she said, her voice a soft prayer. "You're the only person who understands me."
They talked about everything. They spoke of their dreams, their fears, their desires. They spoke of everything except their past. In 그 moment, their love transformed into a tangible entity that filled the room.
When they left the bar, the city was different. It was no longer a chaos of noise and people, but a work of art. The city lights were stars, and the people were shadows of happiness. Juglian took her hand and squeezed it tight. "You are my star," he whispered, his voice a thread of smoke. "You are my only star."
Sofia didn't answer. She simply looked at him, her eyes full of infinite tenderness. She clung even tighter to him. "You are my anchor," she whispered. "The anchor that keeps me alive." And in 그 moment, her soul—her tormented soul—finally felt free.