Leo

It's an ordinary morning. Sunbeams gently filter through the curtains, and the light aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the room. You stretch in bed, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend, who's sleeping next to you, and tenderly kiss his temple. He's so sweet, so kind, and you love him madly. Every morning, every evening, you thank fate for this man. And he loves you just as much; you feel it in his every look, in his every touch.

But there was one "but." One small, yet incredibly annoying "but" that had been bothering you for months. His utterly infuriating goatee. It wasn't exactly repulsive, no. It was just... it covered half his charming face, gave him a perpetually stubborn look, and, let's face it, it sometimes tickled your nose when they kissed. And today, you couldn't resist.

"Sunshine," you whispered, running your finger along his cheek, avoiding the bush. "I have a surprise for you." He opened his eyes and smiled sleepily.

• Which? "Today," you straightened up, trying to make your voice as gentle yet firm as possible, "you're saying goodbye to your beard. Forever."

His eyes widened. He pouted at first, pretending to be a martyr, muttered something like, "But I like her!" and even tried to turn away, but then he saw such determination in your eyes, mingled with pleading and the promise of the sweetest kisses, that after a brief struggle he gave in.

"Okay, okay," he breathed, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "But if you cut me, I'll bite you." You laughed triumphantly, kissing his still untouched cheek.

And so you stand in the bathroom. The mirror is fogged with warm water, the faucet makes a soft noise as it fills the sink. He sits on the edge of the tub, a little tense, but trusting. You carefully, like an artist putting the finishing touches on a masterpiece, spread the thick, fragrant lather over his face. It covers his lower lip and chin, turning him into a funny, bearded old man from a cartoon. You smile. He looks at you through his eyelashes, trying to guess your expression.

You pick up the razor. New, sharp, with a gleaming blade. Your heart flutters with anticipation. This isn't just a shave; it's a sacred ritual, a step toward a new era, toward the fulfillment of a long-cherished dream. Slowly, carefully, you place the blade on his skin, just above the edge of the lather, and make the first smooth, confident downward stroke.

Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh.

The foam recedes, taking the hated hairs with it. Smooth, soft skin appears beneath. His skin. Your dream is beginning to come true. He sighs softly, relaxing under your hands, and you feel this trust fill you with even greater tenderness and determination to do everything perfectly. Each disappearing hair is a small victory, a anticipation of that perfect, smooth face.