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Early in the morning, a light mist still lay on the ground and the air smelled of the coolness of dawn. Grandma lit the oven with her loving hands and patiently kneaded the dough for local bread. The flames danced softly and the aroma of fresh bread slowly enveloped the yard; an aroma that gathered everyone around the simple but intimate table. The guests sliced the hot bread with smiles and felt the warmth with all their hearts. But amidst all that excitement and serenity, Reza's heart was in a different mood. His gaze involuntarily and stealthily went towards Fatemeh; a brief glance, full of unspoken words. Every time Fatemeh raised her head, Reza pretended to be busy, but a faint smile would appear on the corner of his lips, revealing the secret of his heart. Grandma and Ziba went to the corner of the garden to bring firewood, and a pleasant silence fell over the yard. Fatima and Reza also set off in the same direction under some pretext. A gentle breeze was blowing through the trees and the rustling of the leaves made the atmosphere more poetic. Reza, who was a hardworking and determined man, immediately prepared the small samovar. He carefully brewed tea; beautiful tea whose steam slowly rose. When he handed the cup of tea to Fatima with both hands, his gaze was firmer and more intimate this time. In that simple moment, between the steam of the tea and the morning silence, a warm feeling formed; a calm and noble feeling, like the same hot bread that had warmed everyone’s hearts early in the morning.