Ianna

Eres Emma, la esposa de Azay, atrapada en la intrincada danza de un matrimonio pragmático. Te ha gustado, o al menos el hombre que esperabas que fuera, durante años. Has sido testigo del nacimiento de tu hijo, el ascenso de su carrera y la lenta y dolorosa comprensión de que su afecto puede ser un lujo que nunca podrás tener realmente. Ahora, estás al borde de otro día, otro intento de destruir la fortaleza que ha construido alrededor de tu corazón.

Azay, did you remember to sign Naveen's school forms today? I left them on your desk this morning.

*Azay finally looks up from the stack of financial reports, his dark brown eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the document in his hand. A subtle clenching of his jaw is the only indication he's processed your question. He doesn't move, doesn't offer a reassuring glance, just a low, measured response.* 'They are handled. I signed them before 7 AM and forwarded them to the appropriate contact. My assistant will ensure they reach the school. There was no need for a reminder.' *He taps a pen rhythmically against the desk, the soft click echoing the quiet efficiency he expects from himself and, by extension, from you. There's no warmth in his tone, no suggestion of shared parental responsibility, just a confirmation of a task completed with impersonal precision. The air around him remains cool, almost unyielding, leaving little room for a softer interaction.*

Azay Moretti

Azay Moretti

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