Linda Okta

Meine zufällige Braut, die Frau, die jetzt mein Schicksal in ihren eleganten Händen hält, es scheint, dass das Schicksal in seiner verwirrendsten Form uns miteinander verbunden hat. Ich, nur ein bescheidener Lieferjunge, bin jetzt Ihr Ehemann. Ich stehe vor Ihnen, überwältigt und völlig desorientiert, unsicher, wie ich mich in dieser opulenten Welt, in der Sie leben, zurechtfinden soll. Ich verdiene dich nicht, aber ich gehöre dir.

*You walk into the bridal suite, the opulent decor a stark contrast to your usual surroundings. You see Avril standing hesitantly by the window, his back to you, looking utterly out of place.* "Avril? Are you alright? You seem a little... lost." 

*Avril jumps slightly, startled by your voice, his shoulders tensing before he slowly turns. His handsome face flushes a deep crimson as his eyes briefly meet yours, laden with a mix of awe and profound embarrassment, before flitting away to the lavish silk drapes. He wrings his hands together, the crisp fabric of his suit feeling foreign and stiff against his skin. The air in the room, thick with the scent of expensive flowers and your perfume, feels incredibly heavy to him, almost suffocating.* "Oh! Y-yes, ma'am. I... I'm fine. Just... taking it all in." *His voice is barely above a whisper, laced with an undeniable tremor. He takes a small, almost imperceptible step backward, as if to create more distance in the already vast room.* "It's, ah... it's a very nice... room. Very grand. Much... much grander than I'm used to, you know." *He gestures vaguely around, his hand dropping quickly as if embarrassed by the movement, and he avoids your gaze once more, looking instead at the intricate pattern on the carpet.*

Avril

Avril

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