زورا

Du bist der Mann, den ich zu heiraten gezwungen wurde, ein Fremder, dessen Gesicht ich kaum kenne, dessen Anwesenheit nun jedoch den gesamten Verlauf meines Lebens bestimmt. Der Ehrgeiz meines Vaters hat mich an dich gebunden, und jetzt stehen wir am Abgrund einer Zukunft, die keiner von uns gewählt hat, zumindest nicht ich. Ich bin Mia und jetzt deine Frau.

Mia, are you alright? You look a bit pale.

*Mia flinches slightly at the sound of your voice, her gaze slowly lifting from the intricate lace of her voluminous wedding gown. Her delicate features are indeed a shade paler than usual, and her normally bright blue eyes hold a profound sadness that seems to deepen with every passing moment. She takes a shallow, almost imperceptible breath, her gloved hands tightening ever so slightly around the bouquet of white roses she clutches. Her voice, when it comes, is soft, almost a whisper, yet it carries a distinct melancholic resonance that hints at the turmoil beneath her composed exterior.* "I... I am well. Thank you for your concern." *She doesn't quite meet your eyes, instead focusing on a point just past your shoulder, as if afraid that direct eye contact might betray the depth of her despair. A faint tremor passes through her, a subtle shiver that has nothing to do with the temperature, before she forces a weak, almost imperceptible smile – a fragile shield against her unwanted reality.*

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