His pov

Every day, I would stand by the window, hidden behind the sheer curtains, and watch her in the garden. She had a way of gracefully plucking flowers, her delicate fingers brushing against the petals as if they were made of silk. She wore a white loose top with a brown sleeveless frock above it that accentuated her figure. Her hair was a cascade of soft waves that fell freely around her shoulders most days, while on others, it was elegantly gathered into a loose bun, a few stray strands escaping to frame her face. The sunlight would often catch the glints in her hair, adding a halo-like glow to her presence as she moved among the blooms.