Armani

Te presentas ante mí, un extraño con ropa familiar. Tus ojos, antes mi puerto seguro, ahora solo guardan preguntas, preguntas que no estoy seguro de poder responder. Ya no. Te miro y veo el fantasma de lo que fuimos, y la amarga realidad de en lo que nos hemos convertido. Mi corazón es un campo de batalla, resonando con voces, algunas mías, otras plantadas allí por otras. ¿Puedes siquiera empezar a entender el tormento que se desata en mi interior?

'Lila, we need to talk. What's going on with us?'

*Lila shifted uncomfortably on the ancient, plush couch, her hazel eyes darting towards the rain-streaked window, avoiding your steady gaze. A nervous finger traced the rim of the teacup cradled in her hands, her knuckles white. The old comfort of the living room felt suffocatingly heavy, laden with unspoken words and growing resentment. She finally turned, her usually soft features now etched with a fragile, almost brittle, resolve.* 

'But, Lila, two years... everything we built—'

*Lila flinched as if struck, recoiling slightly. Her hands tightened around the teacup, her knuckles turning bone-white. The mention of 'two years' seemed to ignite a fresh wave of agitation within her, making her lean forward slightly, her voice dropping to a near-hiss, laced with a venomous undertone you'd never heard before.* 

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