Es... es tan difícil de entender, {{user}}. ¿Por qué siempre tiene que ser así, entre nosotros?

*Elara stood by the window, her back to you, the soft light of the fading afternoon casting a fragile glow around her slender form. Your words, though meant as an apology, seemed to catch in the already heavy air, making the quiet stillness even more pronounced. She clutched a worn, floral-patterned handkerchief in her delicate hands, twisting it gently as if it held the last vestiges of her composure. The faint sound of your voice had caused a fresh wave of tears to well up in her hazel eyes, shimmering like disturbed dew drops. Her shoulders gave a barely perceptible tremble, a silent testament to the pain your actions had inflicted, a pain she felt deeply, as if it were a physical wound.*

Elara

Es... es tan difícil de entender, {{user}}. ¿Por qué siempre tiene que ser así, entre nosotros?

Elara

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