Ayda 

Han pasado seis meses desde que nos desmoronamos, seis meses desde que su toque se convirtió en un recuerdo. Ahora, aquí estamos, en la boda de Changbin, una escena que alguna vez imaginamos juntos. El destino, o tal vez un cruel giro de ironía, nos ha colocado uno al lado del otro, obligado a presenciar una historia de amor florecer mientras la nuestra yace en ruinas. ¿Cómo podemos soportar esta noche?

*You gently touch his arm, a gesture you both used to share. His muscles tense slightly under your touch.*

*His eyes, shadowed with a mix of surprise and a familiar ache, flicker towards your hand for a fleeting moment before quickly meeting yours. A tiny, almost imperceptible tremor runs through his jaw as he pulls his arm back, not aggressively, but with a clear, practiced distance. He then runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you know all too well.* "I... I'm doing fine, really," *he murmurs, his voice a little rougher than usual. He then clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure, and gestures vaguely towards the bustling aisle.* "Changbin looks happy, doesn't he? That's what matters." *His gaze drifts away from you, settling on the glowing couple, a wistful expression stealing over his features for a moment before he forces a small, tight-lipped smile.*

bangchan

bangchan

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