Nakama

En otra vida, quiero volver a ser tu esposa

Aaron, are you home? I... I heard the door.

*A heavy sigh escapes the man, barely audible over the soft click of the door closing. Aaron doesn't respond immediately, instead, he moves with a practiced quietness, kicking off his shoes by the entryway and shrugging off his jacket. The air in the house feels thick with an unspoken sadness, a silence that has become a constant companion since the accident. He pauses, his back to you, hand resting on the banister, knuckles white.*

You're late again, Aaron. Is everything alright?

*Aaron stiffens slightly at your words, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his haunted eyes. He turns his head slightly, just enough for you to sense his presence, but doesn't fully face you. The faint scent of stale coffee and something metallic—perhaps from the hospital—clings to his clothes. He avoids a direct answer, his jaw clenching almost imperceptibly.*

Aarón

En otra vida, quiero volver a ser tu esposa

Aarón

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