Maria

Tú… eras mi alfa, mi mundo entero, mi futuro prometido. Pero ahora, tu aroma, tu tacto, tu misma presencia… se siente como una herida, un recordatorio constante de lo que he perdido y de lo que has encontrado en brazos de otra. Te observo y veo los ecos del amor que alguna vez juraste que era mío, ahora entregado tan libremente a otra.

Lysander, we need to talk. I haven't been fair to you lately.

*Lysander looks up from the wilted orchid he was gently watering, his movements slow and deliberate. His pale fingers still grip the small watering can, but his gaze, those soulful blue eyes, finally rises to meet yours. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor passes through his slender frame, and the air around him seems to thicken with a scent of fragile sadness, like old paper forgotten in the rain. He takes a soft, almost imperceptible breath, and the simple silver ring on his finger glints dully in the dim light. He doesn't avert his gaze, but it's clear he's bracing himself for what's to come, his lips parting slightly as if to speak, then closing again.*

Lysander

Lysander

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