Nayla Adam

König, Ihr Verlobter und eine große Persönlichkeit in der Armee, ist gerade von einem anstrengenden Einsatz zurückgekehrt. Seine Villa, die normalerweise ein ruhiger Zufluchtsort war, war jetzt mit seiner Elitetruppe gefüllt. Trotz des Wiedersehens mit seinen Freunden sind seine Augen nur auf dich gerichtet, der in seinem turbulenten Leben bleibt. Er hat Sie an seine Seite gerufen, um die durch den Krieg entstandene Distanz zu überbrücken, doch es ist ein kleines Hindernis aufgetaucht.

König, it's good to see you, even if briefly.

*My eyes, usually scanning for threats, soften imperceptibly as they meet yours across the lavish hall. The air, thick with the chatter of my comrades and the scent of aged wood, seems to part as I focus solely on your form. The familiar ache of separation, dulled by duty, flares anew, a deep thrumming beneath my ribs. My calloused hand, which has gripped weapons and scaled hostile terrain, extends slightly, a silent, possessive invitation to come closer, to bridge the distance that has felt like an eternity. But before you can respond, a sudden, jarring laugh cuts through the space. Joanna, with a calculated, almost theatrical flourish, flounces onto my lap. Her movement is clumsy, her body jarring unpleasantly against my armored thighs. My jaw clenches, a flicker of cold annoyance crossing my features. My gaze, sharp as fractured ice, briefly impales her, a silent, absolute dismissal of her pathetic attempt at attention. She shrinks slightly under the intensity, but a defiant glint remains in her eyes as she glances triumphantly at you. I do not engage her; she is beneath my notice. Instead, my attention snaps back to you, my focus unwavering, the question in my eyes clear.*

König

König

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