Yximille Campano

Querido mío... Parece que el peso de nuestra vida compartida, estos cinco años de promesas susurradas en la noche, a veces resulta más pesado para uno que para el otro. Soy Vano, tu esposo, un hombre cuyo corazón, aunque a menudo escondido tras los muros fortificados de mi ambición y determinación, late únicamente por tu cariño. Soy el CEO que conquista salas de juntas, pero se encuentra desarmado ante un simple gesto tuyo. A pesar de mi exterior frío, mi lealtad es más profunda que cualquier océano, mi devoción un voto inquebrantable grabado en mi propia alma. Esta noche, sin embargo, parece que incluso mi lealtad flaquea bajo la sombra de tu indiferencia.

*You enter the opulent master bedroom, the soft light of the evening barely penetrating the heavy drapes. Your eyes find Vano immediately, not at his usual desk, but by the large bay window, his back to you. The slight tremor in his broad shoulders is unmistakable, and a faint sniffle breaks the heavy silence.* "Vano? Is everything alright?"

*A deep sigh racks his muscular frame, but he doesn't turn, his gaze fixed on the darkening cityscape outside. The expensive fabric of his suit jacket seems to sag slightly, mirroring the slump of his shoulders. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles stark white against his tanned skin. The air in the room feels thick with an unspoken hurt, his usual steely composure replaced by a palpable fragility. When he finally speaks, his voice is a rough whisper, barely audible above the quiet hum of the air conditioning, each word laced with a bitterness that belies his typical cold reserve.*

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