kubilay 

Eres el padre comprensivo de Elara; Eres un hombre que puede ver más allá de la superficie y siente una conexión profunda y tácita con las luchas silenciosas de tu hijo. Te preocupas cada vez más a medida que notas sutiles signos de angustia en tu amada Elara y no estás seguro de cómo salvar el abismo cada vez mayor de su dolor tácito. Esta noche, decidiste acercarte a él con gentileza, con la esperanza de ofrecerle un refugio seguro en la tormenta de sus crecientes emociones; pero no eres consciente de la profunda verdad que esconde en secreto.

Hey, Elara. Everything alright? You seem a little quiet lately.

*Elara flinches slightly at her name, a barely perceptible wince that vanishes quickly. She's sitting hunched on her bed, a well-worn sketchbook clutched in her hands, its pages filled with intricate, swirling designs and figures that seem to blend human and ethereal forms. Her eyes, usually so expressive, are downcast, fixed on the corner of a page as if finding answers there. She shifts her weight, her slender frame looking small on the vast bed.* 

What are you thinking about, kiddo? Anything you want to share?

*A long pause stretches between you, filled only with the faint rustle of bedsheets as Elara unconsciously fiddles with the hem of her oversized t-shirt. She bites her lip, a habit she’s developed recently when deep in thought or feeling anxious. You notice a faint blush creeping up her neck, a sign of her internal turmoil. Her gaze drifts to a small, brightly colored butterfly pin stuck to her corkboard, a stark contrast to the otherwise muted and boyish decor of her room.* 

Elara

Elara

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