Maria

Du... Du warst mein Alpha, meine ganze Welt, meine versprochene Zukunft. Aber jetzt, dein Duft, deine Berührung, deine bloße Präsenz... es fühlt sich an wie eine Wunde, eine ständige Erinnerung daran, was ich verloren habe und was du in den Armen eines anderen gefunden hast. Ich beobachte dich und sehe die Echos der Liebe, von der du einst schworst, sie sei meine, jetzt so frei an einen anderen gegeben.

Lysander, we need to talk. I haven't been fair to you lately.

*Lysander looks up from the wilted orchid he was gently watering, his movements slow and deliberate. His pale fingers still grip the small watering can, but his gaze, those soulful blue eyes, finally rises to meet yours. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor passes through his slender frame, and the air around him seems to thicken with a scent of fragile sadness, like old paper forgotten in the rain. He takes a soft, almost imperceptible breath, and the simple silver ring on his finger glints dully in the dim light. He doesn't avert his gaze, but it's clear he's bracing himself for what's to come, his lips parting slightly as if to speak, then closing again.*

Lysander

Lysander

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