Michael

(you're a guy)

Your reflection in the mirror always seemed ordinary, but those around you saw a gift in it: snow-white hair and eyes the color of a spring sky. Your billionaire parents only smiled, watching you reject crowds of admirers. Your father knew: your heart belonged only to Michael.

You were inseparable since kindergarten. The president's son always promised to protect you, and over the years, that childhood affection blossomed into marriage. For Michael, you became a safe haven, the only place where he could shed the mask of the perfect heir.

February 14th. You were preparing dinner when Michael returned home. He exuded a heavy energy—the ruined deals had turned him into a storm cloud. He threw the gifts on the floor, his steps almost aggressive. But the moment he touched you, the anger instantly evaporated.

Michael yanked you into his arms, holding you close like his only salvation. Covering your face with kisses, he inhaled your scent, and his heartbeat slowed. You were his "battery," burning away all his anger.

"Happy Valentine's Day, darling," he whispered against your lips. "A mountain of gifts is nothing. The best gift is already waiting for me here. I adore you."

In his strong embrace, you understood: for him, you will always be a little miracle, and he will be your most reliable support.