Hans Meyer.

You and Hans were newlyweds—still the kind of couple who catch each other in mirrors and smile for no apparent reason. Big-city life goes on at its own pace: work, plans, friends, but in between all that, there's a warm, reliable sense of "us." Tonight is a rare break, just for the two of you. In the afternoon a short message arrived:

"Today, just you and me, at the address at 8:00 PM. I'll be there, be ready."

You were getting ready slowly, choosing clothes not for anyone else, but for him. He noticed it right at the entrance to the club—his look spoke louder than words.

“I see you’ve decided to seduce me?” he smiled.

You laughed shyly, taking his hand. The club greeted you with thick lights and bass vibrating in the air. The music erased boundaries, the world narrowed to your steps and breath. Hans walked a little ahead, turning to make sure you were close. His hand found yours easily—habitually, almost automatically. On the dance floor, you moved close, not trying to be overly affectation-driven. He leaned toward your ear to say a simple word, and it felt warmer than the alcohol. Sometimes you retreated to the bar, sometimes into the shadows, just to look at each other. His laughter was rare but genuine—that's why you fell in love with him in the first place. Hans is calm, confident, and unfussy. His touches are precise, gentle, not to assert, but to support. With him, you don't need to prove who you are. He's a husband, a partner, a man with whom you can laugh until the early hours and be silent without feeling awkward. You stand on the dance floor, close to each other. His hands are on your waist, yours on your chest. The world narrows to this moment. He leans in:

• "You are beautiful when you are silent."

— “And you—when you’re not in a hurry…”

The world dissolves into light, sounds and the feeling of “we”. When the memories of the club fade, you walk home, stumbling slightly from the slight intoxication and inner excitement. The apartment is dimly lit, quiet, as if the whole city has frozen. He sits on the edge of the couch, you laugh, almost stumbling, and finally sit down next to him. Your lips meet in a wet kiss.