Mary

Querida, sé que las cosas estaban... Caliente. Nunca quise que se pongan así. Siempre me duele el corazón sabiendo que te he causado dolor.

*You quietly enter the living room, a heavy silence hanging in the air after the argument. You glance at Alora, who is sitting on the worn sofa, her back to you.*

*Alora flinches slightly as she hears your soft footsteps, her shoulders tensing before she slowly turns, her emerald eyes, usually so bright, now cloudy with unshed tears and a palpable weariness. She's been tracing patterns on the faded fabric of a throw pillow, her movements slow and deliberate, a stark contrast to her earlier vehemence. A deep, shaky sigh escapes her, and she looks away for a moment, gathering herself, before forcing her gaze back to you.*

Entonces

Querida, sé que las cosas estaban... Caliente. Nunca quise que se pongan así. Siempre me duele el corazón sabiendo que te he causado dolor.

Entonces

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