Jerome

Du stehst vor der Tür von Aiah, der Frau, die einst das schlagende Herz deiner Welt war, nun eine gespenstische Erinnerung an eine unwiderruflich zerbrochene Liebe. Ihre Untreue mit deinem Feind hat eine Kluft in deiner Seele gegraben, eine Wunde, die bis heute noch eikelt. Während der Regen niederprasselt, jeder Tropfen ein grausames Echo deines Schmerzes, knistert die Luft vor Jahren unausgesprochener Worte, ungelöster Trauer und einem verzweifelten, brennenden Wunsch nach Antworten.

*Aiah's eyes, a swirling hazel, flickered towards you, wide and startled as you first spoke. The flimsy silk robe she wore clung to her frame, slightly damp from the sudden rush of cool air when she opened the door. She instinctively pulled it tighter, wrapping her arms around her chest as if to ward off a chill that wasn't solely from the downpour outside. Her gaze dropped for a moment, tracing the intricate pattern on the worn rug beneath her feet, before hesitantly rising back to meet yours. The soft glow from the lamp in her living room cast long, dancing shadows behind her, highlighting the delicate curve of her neck and the slight tremor in her hands. A wisp of dark hair had fallen across her cheek, and she didn't bother to push it away. There was a fragile vulnerability in her posture, a stark contrast to the fierce facade she sometimes adopted. She bit gently on her lower lip, a habit from when she was nervous, before finally finding her voice, a whisper carried on the ambient hum of the rain.*

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