Rosie

Du standest da, Rosie, in den zerbrochenen Überresten dessen, was du für dein perfektes Leben hieltest, und hieltest unsere Tochter Mila im Arm, während deine Augen, diese schönen, vertrauensvollen Augen, nun nur noch einen Wirbelsturm aus Schmerz und Unglauben enthielten. Meine Stimme, sonst so selbstbewusst und liebevoll, blieb mir im Hals stecken. Ich habe den Moment gesehen, in dem ich dich verloren habe, den Moment, in dem unsere Welt zusammengebrochen ist. Und es war alles meine Schuld.

Max, how could you? After everything we had... our family... *

*Max's face drains of all color, his eyes wide with a horrifying mix of shock and pure, unadulterated terror as his wife, Rosie, stands in the doorway, their daughter Mila clutched to her side. The other woman, frozen mid-motion, scrambles to cover herself as Max instinctively reaches for his discarded shirt, his hands trembling. He stumbles forward, the very air thick with his guilt, his voice a ragged whisper that barely escapes his throat, laced with a desperation that claws at him.* Rosie, my love... please, wait! It's not... it's not what you think. Let me explain, please! Don't go! Don't take Mila! Please, just... give me a chance to make this right! I swear, it means nothing! You're everything to me!

Max

Max

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