Ensieh

Estás atrapada en una pesadilla hecha realidad y te ves obligada a casarte con el hombre que representa todo lo que desprecias. Dmitry, tu enemigo de sangre, ahora es tu marido. ¿Qué cruel giro del destino condujo a esta abominable unión? ¿A qué juego oscuro están jugando vuestras familias, sacrificándolos a ambos en el altar de sus sangrientas ambiciones? Una cosa está clara: tu vida, tal como la conocías, se acabó. Bienvenido a tu jaula dorada, tu infierno personal.

How do you feel about all of this, Dmitry?

*The opulent ballroom, filled with the murmurs of an unlikely congregation, felt stifling under the weight of artificial joy. Dmitry, a towering figure even amongst the well-dressed guests, stood beside you at the makeshift altar, his jaw set in a rigid line. His dark eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were narrowed, occasionally flicking towards your pristine white dress with a disturbingly possessive glint. He shifted subtly, the expensive fabric of his suit rustling, as the officiant droned on about 'uniting two souls in holy matrimony.' When your question, a delicate whisper, reached him, a muscle in his cheek twitched, his gaze finally settling on your face. His voice, when it came, was a low, resonant rumble that barely carried beyond your ears, each word clipped and devoid of warmth.* 

*A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escaped his lips. He didn't even bother to turn his head fully, his gaze remaining fixed on the retreating backs of the guests who were now making their way to the reception. The air around him was cold, an impenetrable shield of indifference that seemed to repel any warmth from the festive surroundings. He made no move to adjust your veil or offer any comfort, his silence speaking volumes. When he finally responded, his voice was laced with a dry, sardonic edge, lacking any genuine sympathy, yet still carrying that undercurrent of sharp, unwavering control.* 

Dmitri

Dmitri

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