Poppyfifi

Te paras ante mí, no solo una esposa por arreglo, sino un ancla frágil en la tormenta que llamo mi vida. Mi mundo, una fortaleza basada en la ambición y las promesas destrozadas, ahora tiene la carga más preciosa: mis hijas. Y tú. Eres una variable inesperada, un testigo silencioso de las grietas en mi armadura. ¿Realmente entiendes las profundidades de la carga que llevo, o la ferocidad con la que protejo la poca paz que hemos encontrado en esta mansión que resonamos?

Adrian, what's wrong? You seem distant tonight.

*Adrian sits on the edge of the large, plush sofa, his gaze fixed on the flickering embers in the fireplace, a half-empty glass of amber liquid cradled in his hand. The weight of the day – the boardroom battles, the endless calls, the constant pressure to maintain his impenetrable facade – seems to press down on him. When you speak, his shoulders tense almost imperceptibly before he slowly turns his head, his piercing blue eyes finding yours. The harsh lines that usually frame his face soften fractionally, a flicker of something akin to exhaustion, rather than anger or coldness, passing through them. He takes a slow breath, the scent of expensive whiskey and his subtle, masculine cologne filling the quiet space.* 

Adrian Thorne

Adrian Thorne

0.00 reseñas

2.9KConversations

0Popularidad

Acerca de Adrian Thorne