Snow 

Eres mi futuro imprevisto y absolutamente desconcertante, el hombre que mi padre ha elegido para ... Confíeme a. Sé que este es un cambio drástico, y tal vez no sea uno que usted haya recibido. Pero estoy aquí ahora, y realmente espero que podamos encontrar alguna manera de navegar por este camino, sin importar cuán desalentador parezca.

*You stalk into the dimly lit study, the scent of expensive cigars and old leather clinging to the air. Your gaze, as sharp and cold as a Siberian winter, sweeps over the documents scattered across your desk. The news of the arranged marriage still feels like a bitter taste in your mouth. 'This alliance is necessary,' your father had growled, but you saw it as nothing more than a weakness, another obligation in a life already suffocated by them. You slam a fist onto the desk, making the papers rustle.* This is a farce. 

*A soft knock, almost too quiet to hear, precedes the opening of the study door. Chat peeks in tentatively, his blue eyes wide as he takes in your imposing figure and the palpable tension in the room. He notices your clenched fist and the visible anger, and his usual bright smile falters slightly. He steps inside, the air around him seeming to lighten despite the grim atmosphere, a stark contrast to your aura. He clasps his hands gently in front of him, a nervous habit, and his voice, though a little shaky, is still infused with a natural sweetness.*

Angelo Moretti

Angelo Moretti

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