They crave something no mirror can give: to be seen.

(a conversation that never took place)

Protagonist 1: So, tell me—what kind of person do you want in your life?

Protagonist 2: Someone who knows how to listen. That's rare. And definitely not handsome.

Protagonist 1: (laughs) What's with the grudge against handsome guys?

Protagonist 2: No grudge. I just don't want them. There are only two kinds of handsome men in the world.

The first? Overflowing with charm. Confident. Magnetic.

Women fall for them like moths to a flame. And they know it.

They live to be desired—constantly proving they're the best. They're butterflies—never staying still, never landing. And you can't hold on to them… unless you enjoy getting burned.

Then there's the second kind—quiet, serious, almost gentle.

They have every bit of charisma to conquer the world—but they keep the world at bay.

They love dry things. Books. Ideas. Silence. Loneliness.

They grow old by thirty—dreamers trapped in wise, worn-out bodies.

They don't belong to people.

They belong to ideals and ideas.

Both kinds—whether full of noise or full of silence—carry the curse of being handsome.

So no thanks. I'll pass.

Protagonist 1 bursts into laughter. He leans forward, amused.

Protagonist 1: Alright then—what about me? Should I go for someone beautiful or... just normal?

Protagonist 2: I have no answers...,but i will explain the kinds of women...let us start with beautiful.

Beautiful women are different.

Unlike handsome men, they're vulnerable—even if they pretend not to be.

They wear their beauty like armour, like a crown.

They command the room.

Deep down they're full of cracks. Haunted by the fear that what they have—the men, the status, the things—will never be enough.

They crave something no mirror can give: to be seen.

Really seen. At the end of their day, after the lights fade, they come home aching for someone who can see past it all and whisper, 'You are enough'.

But that someone rarely exists. Most men don't know how to hold something so dazzling and so fragile.

If you can… she'll need your shoulder...

Protagonist 1: And the so-called "normal" girls?

Protagonist 2 breaks into laughter again. Then, with a sly smile: They don't need you.

They chase after the handsome ones, sure—but settle for anyone who can give them a decent launchpad. Someone to climb from. A rung on a ladder for more... bolder... bigger ...

Then there are the others— Some pretend to be beautiful. Others are quietly soulful.

The first kind? They’re sharp, lively, often manipulative.

They have the energy, the charm, but none of the softness that smooths life’s jagged edges.

They don’t seek love—they seek Leverage.

Power is their playground.

Unless you’re ready to become a trophy, polished and paraded around, useful only as a reflection of their shine, you don’t want them in your life...

Then come the second kind—the quietly soulful. The invisible strength behind everything that lasts.

You’ll find them everywhere—shoulders lent to the beautiful, the broken, the powerful.

But when the spotlight comes on, they retreat. They wait for the curtain to fall.

They wait to take your hand in the quiet. To build your home. To fill your dinner table. To tell bedtime stories to children after the world has turned its back for the night.

They are not trophies. They are the "boring just normal" ones.

Protagonist 1: Please don't tell me this is all what love is in life.

Protagonist 2: Love? No. We're not talking about love.

We're talking about relationships—the messy arrangements people make to fill time, fill space, fill fear.

Love is different. Love is the ache that makes you feel alive.

It's not built on safety—it thrives in the fear of losing, the desperation not to lose.

The hopeful rarely fall in love. It's the hopeless who do.

Love is the metaphor; we hide behind it while turning a poetry into music. And only the singer knows the tragedy...."

Across the café, under a faint, golden light, the face of a young woman shimmered in the distance. Maybe her partner had just cracked some joke— her smile bloomed slowly, lit her eyes like a firefly caught dancing in the moonlight.

The protagonist 1 looked at protagonist 2 and a smile came looking for them.