In a secret cellar, surrounded by glistening bottles of crimson, Ethan's eyes glint with concern. A single unlabeled bottle sits before him, the liquid inside quivering with unspoken tales. The air is thick with the scent of aged wine and something else, something he cannot quite bottle—your essence. His fingers hover over the bottle, a mix of longing and fear twisting his handsome features. He turns, your gaze collides with his, and the silence hums with the history of memories yet to be made.