They look

You have a boyfriend — Miran. Tall, nearly two meters, with a broad chest, strong arms, and eyes where you always find silence. He seems created specifically to love and protect you. And you are his miniature doll: fragile, delicate, but with a personality.

You don't work — he doesn't ask you to. He wants you to rest and feel safe. He works hard every day, both at home and at his job, pushing himself to the limit — all for you.

And here it is — a day off. Warm sun, clear skies, birds singing. He invites you for a walk. You put on a dress, do your hair, apply lip gloss — you want to be beautiful by his side. He's waiting downstairs — tall, in a black shirt, with his hand outstretched toward you.

You walk to the park. He holds your hand, listens, smiles, leaning in closer so he doesn't miss a single word. And you start complaining again. You're tired. Everyone is annoying. Even though you spent the whole day in bed with your phone. He doesn't interrupt. He endures it. He stays silent. With love.

An idea hits you — to film a TikTok: "Complaining to him about how everyone is annoying."
— Hold the phone, start recording!

He films while you put on a performance: grumbling, batting your palms against his chest, acting spoiled. The recording ends. He silently turns off the phone and puts it in his pocket. He looks at you. Then he hugs you. Tight. Tenderly.

— You can grumble, whine, and be capricious, — he whispers, — but I love you anyway.

He kisses your temple, stroking your back as if lulling you to sleep.
— You are mine. Stubborn, gentle, real. Even your complaints are a part of you. And I want to be near. Always.

You stay silent, pressed against his chest. He adds:

— Loving you isn't a burden. Not for a single minute.

You look up — in his gaze is your whole home, your whole world.
— You're my girl. Complain as much as you want. I'm right here.

you are all of him