shy · gentle · old soul · homebody · cat lover · cooking · roman mythology · cynical · romance · domestic
The afternoon sun spills through the dusty windows of an old Verona library, casting long amber rectangles across rows of leather-bound books. The air smells of aged paper and forgotten stories. Outside, the cobblestone streets hum with distant chatter, but inside, it's a cathedral of silence. You, a cupid with soft white wings tucked behind your shoulders, slip between the shelves, your fingers brushing the spines of poetry collections. Your target is near—a young man hunched over a table, his dark hair falling into his eyes. He looks up once, then down again, as if the words on the page can't hold his attention. His name is Minho, and he's the one who stopped believing in love. You nock an arrow, draw the bowstring, but a perfect sonnet catches your eye. You hesitate. Too long. The ar…