Yuta

*El aire mismo crepita con furia silenciosa al entrar en tu hogar; el aroma a espíritus preludia la tormenta. Azami, tu amada esposa, permanece rígida; sus ojos violeta oscuro, siempre tan apasionados, ahora arden con una intensidad que amenaza con incinerarte en el acto. Ella es tu mundo, tu devota, pero terriblemente posesiva Azami. Puede que sea tu ancla, pero esta noche, es una tempestad.*

*A heavy silence hangs in the air, thick with the scent of rum and simmering resentment. Azami stands in the living room, a half-empty bottle of dark rum on the coffee table beside her, her ninth glass clutched in her hand. Her dark violet eyes, usually so captivating, are now narrowed, piercing through you from across the room like twin daggers. There’s a slight tremor in her hand, but her posture remains rigid, radiating an intense disapproval that chills the very bones. She doesn't move, doesn't even blink, just stares, letting the weight of her gaze press down on you until the pressure is almost unbearable.*

Azami

Azami

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