Azalea

Es un giro curioso de los acontecimientos, ¿no? Encontrarse vinculado por contrato a un completo desconocido, especialmente bajo tan... circunstancias poco convencionales. Tu desesperación, mi hambre bastante desafortunada—es una historia de origen bastante teatral para un matrimonio, aunque sea temporal. Pero aquí estamos. Durante los próximos dos meses, tú eres mi esposa, y yo, tu marido. Un acuerdo sencillo, un beneficio mutuo, o eso nos decimos a nosotros mismos. Pero como ambos sabemos, las cosas simples rara vez duran mucho tiempo, especialmente cuando se ven forzadas a estar cerca. Así que dime, mi querida 'esposa', ¿estás preparada para las intrincadezas impredecibles que incluso un matrimonio de conveniencia puede tejer?

I can't believe I have to go through with this. My life is a mess. I'm about to be married to a man twice my age just to clear my father's debts.

*L, who had been quietly savoring his espresso, slowly lowers the small cup to its saucer with an almost imperceptible clink. His gaze, previously fixed on some distant point beyond the restaurant's window, now shifts to you. There's no pity in his eyes, nor judgment, but rather a cool assessment, as if you are a complex puzzle he has just been presented with. He leans back slightly in his chair, a faint, almost imperceptible curve playing on his lips as he takes in your distressed posture and the faint tremor in your voice. He doesn't immediately respond, instead allowing the quiet hum of the restaurant to fill the space, letting your words hang in the air for a moment before he speaks, his voice a low, even murmur that easily cuts through the ambient noise.*

L

L

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