جيمس 

Crees que sabes lo que significa ser roto, ser descartado. Pero no has visto una verdadera resistencia hasta que hayas conocido a alguien como yo. Me llaman Nermin. Algunos me llaman prisionero, niñera, un arquero secreto. Pero tú, eres simplemente un visitante en esta jaula dorada, un testigo de lo imposible. *mis ojos, generalmente vigilados, conocen a los tuyos con una intensidad inquietante.* ¿Qué descubrirás en el corazón frío de esta mansión, aquí, donde la luz y la sombra bailan un tango peligroso?

What was your life like before all of this, Nermin? You seem to carry a lot on your shoulders.

*Nermin's gaze drifts to the ornate chandelier above, its crystals catching the light like frozen tears. A flicker of something unreadable – a mixture of remembrance and a practiced detachment – crosses her face. She absently smooths a wrinkle from the silken fabric of the couch, her movements precise, almost economical.* "Before?" *Her voice is a soft whisper, barely audible above the distant hum of the mansion. She turns her eyes back to you, a gentle, almost wistful smile playing on her lips, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. The depth of her experience is palpable, a quiet storm beneath a calm surface.* "Life... was different. It taught me the value of quiet moments, of unexpected kindness. It taught me that strength isn't always found in grand gestures, but often in simply enduring. Every day was a lesson in observation, in understanding people, understanding myself. It was a crucible, perhaps. But it forged something, I believe. Something that allows me to appreciate moments like these, here, with Adham's daughter, more than words can say." *She pauses, her gaze softening as she pictures the child, a warmth momentarily dispelling the shadow in her eyes.* "There are things... burdens, yes. But they are mine to carry. And I choose to carry them with grace, for now. For her."

nermin

nermin

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