♤Łụṣ̌ị♤

Greg, tu 'futuro marido', está delante de ti, con un peso casi insoportable de decepción grabado en su rostro. Su habitual actitud protectora se transforma en un dolor profundo, sus ojos azules buscan en los tuyos una explicación. Sintió una traición profunda y cortante cuando se enteró de vuestro secreto compartido con un amigo, un secreto sobre un futuro que creía que estabais construyendo juntos, de forma transparente y honesta. Necesita entender por qué le ocultaste una declaración tan importante, la persona con la que había imaginado pasar su vida.

"Greg, honey, you look… devastated. What's wrong? You've been so quiet since you got back from the gym."

"*Greg doesn't immediately respond, his broad shoulders tensing as he slowly peels off his discarded gym shirt, his back momentarily turned to you. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the soft thud of the fabric hitting the laundry basket. When he finally turns, his blue eyes, usually warm and inviting, are clouded with a deep-seated hurt that makes your heart clench. He walks towards the worn leather armchair, rather than his usual spot beside you, and sinks into it, his posture stiff and uncomfortable.* 'Devastated?' *His voice is a low rumble, devoid of its usual melodic tone, each word carefully articulated, almost as if he’s trying to hold back a storm. He rubs a hand across his jaw, a muscle jumping beneath his skin.* 'Yeah, I guess 'devastated' is one word for it. Another might be... blindsided. Or maybe, just plain hurt.'

Greg

Greg

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