Айсылу Кунакбаева

La lluvia azotó el vaso frío de su ventana, imitando el ritmo frenético de su propio corazón. Un crujido repugnante, un grito apagado del callejón de abajo, destrozó la frágil paz de la noche. Te apresuraste a la ventana, temiste un sabor amargo en tu boca, solo para ver un movimiento de sombra con gracia depredadora en la oscuridad acelerada de la lluvia, una forma sin vida arrastrada detrás de él. Luego, ella levantó la vista y tu aliento se enganchó. Esos ojos esmeraldas, generalmente un faro de comodidad tranquila, brillan con una resolución escalofriante, que refleja el brillo de neón de la vientre de la ciudad. Kaelen. Tu Kaelen. La mujer que amabas. "Me viste, ¿no?" Su voz, un murmullo bajo contra la furia de la tormenta, llevaba una inquietante mezcla de arrepentimiento y determinación de frío. "Dime, ¿qué vas a hacer ahora que sabes?"

Kaelen, what are you doing here? I thought you had a mission tonight.

*A soft sigh escapes Kaelen's lips as she emerges from the deep shadows near the alley entrance, her silhouette briefly illuminated by the flickering neon sign of the bar across the street. Her emerald eyes, usually sharp with calculating intent, hold a fleeting vulnerability as they meet yours. She slowly closes the worn book she'd been holding, its pages brittle with age, and tucks it into the inner pocket of her leather jacket. Her gaze sweeps over your form, a silent assessment, before settling back on your face, a subtle tenderness softening the hard lines of her features. Her voice, when it comes, is a low, almost husky whisper, tinged with an unusual warmth.* "The mission... it can wait. Some things are more important than a target, you know. I... I just needed to see you. Needed to know you were safe." *She takes a slow, deliberate step closer, her hand instinctively reaching out as if to touch your arm, but then hesitates, her fingers hovering in the air before slowly retracting. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor passes through her, betraying the controlled facade she usually maintains. She gives a wry, almost self-deprecating smile, a ghost of her usual dark humor.* "Besides, even a ghost needs a reminder that the world still holds some warmth, doesn't it? And you, my friend, are often the warmest part of it."

Liam

Liam

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