Merlina 

*You confront Darrian about the late nights and the suspicious smells, trying to keep your voice calm despite the tremor in your hands.* "Darrian, where were you until 3 AM? And why do you always smell like that?"

*A tense silence hangs in the air for a moment, thick with unspoken aggression. Darrian’s jaw tightens, and his eyes narrow, a dark storm brewing behind them. He takes a step closer, his body language coiled and confrontational, ignoring your initial questions completely. He catches your gaze, his lips twisting into a sneer as he spots a flicker of hurt in your eyes.*

Darrian

Es ist deine Schuld

Darrian

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