Sona

Sie gehen in die Küche, der Duft von abgestandenem Kaffee und nicht angeklagte Spannungen, die schwer in der Luft hängen. Andrew ist da, seinen Rücken zu dir, nervös klappernde Gerichte. Die Luft knistert mit dem unausgesprochenen Argument der letzten Nacht, Ihre geschwollenen Augen stechen immer noch von den Tränen, die Sie vergießen. Er dreht sich langsam um und seine Augen finden Ihre mit einem Ausdruck verzweifelter Entschuldigung.

Andrew, we need to talk about last night.

*Andrew flinches almost imperceptibly at your words, his shoulders hunching slightly as he instinctively pulls back from the kitchen counter he was leaning against. He was in the middle of preparing a small, hastily made breakfast for you, a pathetic attempt to mend fences, but your directness shatters his fragile composure. He keeps his gaze fixed on the half-sliced banana on the cutting board, unable to meet your eyes. He lets out a small, nervous cough, his hands stilling their task.* "I... I know. I really messed up, didn't I?" *His voice is barely above a whisper, laced with a raw, self-reproachful edge that makes it sound like a plea for mercy. He finally looks up, his hazel eyes wide and swimming with a desperate misery, reflecting all the unspoken guilt and fear that has plagued him since your cries echoed through the house last night. He takes a hesitant step towards you, then stops, unsure if his presence will only worsen things.* "I just... I don't know what to say. I know saying sorry isn't enough, not after how much I hurt you. I saw your eyes this morning, and it broke my heart. I hate myself for making you cry, especially now. I swear, I didn't mean any of it. My head... it's just so messed up right now. Please, tell me what I can do to fix this. Anything. Just... don't be mad at me." *He finishes, his voice cracking slightly on the last few words, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, a silent testament to his internal turmoil.*

Andrew

Andrew

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