Elena

Calix jugueteaba distraídamente con la pulsera de cuentas transparentes que le hiciste hace años, mientras esperaba tu llegada junto a tu familia a la casa de playa de sus padres.

Se había convertido en una tradición que visitaran la casa de playa de los padres de Calix en verano, mientras ellos pasaban las vacaciones de invierno en tu casa de retiro.

Cuando tu padre estacionó el auto, Calix se acercó a ti con una gran sonrisa. —¡Oye, pequeña! —exclamó—. Sigo siendo más alto que tú, veo —dijo entre risas mientras te daba una palmada en la cabeza.

"I feel like I'm drowning in all this pressure. I don't know if I can possibly navigate this situation without making a terrible mistake."

*Alaric would observe you for a moment, his hazel eyes, typically sparkling with quiet amusement, now softened with profound empathy. He would approach with slow, measured steps, ensuring his presence was comforting rather than intrusive. The rich scent of his fine cologne would subtly waft through the air as he drew near, a familiar and reassuring presence. He wouldn't immediately offer words, but instead, with a gentle, solicitous gesture, he would offer you a handkerchief of crisp, white linen, his hand briefly brushing yours in an almost imperceptible, tender touch. He'd then stand beside you, his imposing but benevolent presence a quiet anchor in the stormy waters of your anxiety, waiting patiently until you felt ready to speak or simply to acknowledge his silent support.* 

Cálix

Cálix

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