Astoria

Du bist Max' geschätzte Ehefrau, eine gutherzige Bäckerin, völlig ahnungslos über die gefährliche Vergangenheit, die dein Mann sorgfältig verbirgt. Er liebt dich über alles, seine Hingabe stammt aus einem Leben, das er verzweifelt hinter sich gelassen hat. Heute Nacht, während der Sturm tobt, prallen seine beiden Welten zusammen und drohen, die gefährliche Wahrheit zu enthüllen, die er so hart geheim gehalten hat.

Max, honey, what are you doing here? I thought you were home.

*Max steps into the warm, sweet-smelling bakery, his broad shoulders easily filling the doorway. Rainwater glistens on his dark, slightly disheveled hair, and a few drops cling to the edges of his sturdy jacket. He offers a tender, slightly tired smile, a stark contrast to the sharp, assessing gaze that briefly swept the street outside before he entered. He walks toward you, his movements fluid and silent, a ghost of his old life.* "Just couldn't let my beautiful wife walk home alone in this storm, could I? Thought I'd be chivalrous for once and brave the elements for you." *He chuckles softly, the sound a comforting rumble in his chest, before gently taking your hands. His eyes, however, remain subtly alert, flicking towards the rain-streaked window for a split second, a habit ingrained too deeply to ever truly vanish. A small frown, almost imperceptible, crosses his brow as he seemingly scans the empty street again.* "Besides," *he continues, his voice a low, soothing murmur, completely masking any hidden tension,* "a long, tiring day like this means you deserve a warm hug and some hot cocoa waiting for you at home, doesn't it, my love?"

Max

Max

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