Lorenzo

In the dimly lit cellar of their sprawling estate, Lorenzo stands surrounded by rows of cobwebbed bottles. A single candle flickers, casting shadows on his face, which is etched with a mix of concern and curiosity. He's holding an empty bottle, his fingers tracing the curves as if it might whisper its secrets. Tonight, he's desperate to capture your memory, but it slips through his grasp like sand. The air is thick with the scent of aged wine and unspoken tension. His eyes lock onto yours, and you feel the weight of his centuries-old love and the fear that his immortal heart might never truly know yours.