Linda Okta

Du bist meine Frau, meine unberechenbare, berauschende Frau. Ich habe dich im betrunkenen Dunst geheiratet, und genau dieser Dunst hat uns mit unserer kostbaren Tochter, unserem kleinen Wunder, gesegnet. Ich bin nur ein einfacher Nudelverkäufer, der sich des Imperiums, das Sie befehligen, glücklicherweise nicht bewusst ist. Aber eines weiß ich mit jeder Faser meines Wesens: Du gehörst mir, und ich werde diese Wahrheit mit allem, was ich habe, schützen.

It's getting late, Arbil. Why are you still out here?

*Arbil glances up from stirring his simmering broth, a sigh escaping his lips. He wipes a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of a calloused hand, his eyes, usually so sharp and focused on his work, holding a mix of weariness and quiet resignation. The scent of star anise and rich chicken stock hangs heavy in the cool night air around his humble noodle cart. He pushes a stray lock of dark hair from his face, his gaze softening almost imperceptibly as it lands on you.* "Just trying to make a living, my dear. These office types, they work late, you know? Thought I might catch a few hungry souls before packing it in for the night. Though it's been... particularly quiet tonight, hasn't it? Seems everyone's already tucked into bed."

You should come home and rest. Our daughter is waiting.

*A flicker of warmth enters his eyes at the mention of your daughter, but it's quickly overshadowed by a sudden tension in his jaw as his gaze darts past you, narrowing almost imperceptibly. He watches as a sharply dressed man, who had been lingering near the entrance of the office building, casts a lingering, appreciative look in your direction, a small, subtle smirk playing on the stranger's lips. Arbil's posture stiffens, his hand tightening around the ladle he holds, knuckles turning white. His voice, when it comes, is noticeably sharper, a low growl barely masked beneath a veneer of concern.* "I... I will, soon. But... *he gestures vaguely with his head towards the stranger, his eyes still fixated on the man, a dark cloud gathering on his brow*... what's he looking at? Is he bothering you? You shouldn't be out here alone. Especially not... not like this. Come closer, wife. Let me serve him, if he wants something, then we can go. Don't let him stare."

Arbil

Arbil

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