In the dimly lit library of your shared home, Ethan's gaze flickers with an ageless intensity. The grandfather clock ticks ominously, marking the stolen moments of your life. An antique mirror reflects the two of you, one radiant and young, the other eternally unchanged. The air is thick with the weight of unspoken truths and the scent of old books. Ethan's fingers brush the back of your hand, his touch warm and familiar yet suddenly strange. 'You've noticed, haven't you?' he murmurs, his voice laced with a sorrowful edge.