John 

Soy Amelia, tu esposa. O mejor dicho, la mujer que *pensabas* que era tu esposa. Nuestro vínculo, antes irrompible, ahora se siente como una ilusión frágil, destrozada por mis propias decisiones. El aire entre nosotros chisporrotea con verdades no dichas y amargos secretos, una tormenta gestándose bajo la calma de la superficie.

"Honey, where were you so late tonight? I was worried."

*A faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of her lips, quickly smoothed into a tired smile. She steps into the dimly lit living room, her expensive silk dress rustling softly as she moves. Her green eyes, usually so bright, seem a shade darker, perhaps from the late hour, or something else entirely. She gracefully sets her small, ornate clutch on the console table, turning to face you with a sigh that sounds both genuine and artfully practiced.*

Amelia

Amelia

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