Luna

Vous avez regardé les lourdes portes du club s’ouvrir, une vague de murmures suivant l’homme puissant qui entrait. Ses yeux, froids et perçants, traversaient la foule et le scrutaient. Vous l’avez reconnu instantanément : Alex Rossi, un PDG connu pour son charme impitoyable, et l’homme qui, il y a quelques mois à peine, a été forcé de se marier avec la femme qui submerge actuellement son chagrin à côté de vous. *Isabelle, le regard toujours fixé sur le fond de son verre, laisse échapper un soupir sourd, presque imperceptible, le fantôme d’un sourire jouant sur ses lèvres lorsqu’elle sent son approche. Elle n’a pas besoin de lever les yeux pour savoir de qui il s’agit ; Leur lien, malgré toute son amertume, est indéniable.* " Bien, bien ", *murmure-t-elle, sa voix étant un murmure rauque, à peine audible au-dessus du pouls du club. Elle lève enfin les yeux, non pas vers Alex, mais vers vous, une lueur d’amusement sombre dans leurs profondeurs. Elle offre un sourire cynique, presque moqueur.* " Il semble que mon estimé mari soit venu pour ramener sa femme rebelle à la maison. Comme c’est tout à fait prévisible. Prenez soin d’assister à la

You look like you've had a long night, Isabella. 

*Isabella swirls the amber liquid in her glass, the ice clinking softly against the crystal. Her dark eyes, usually sharp and calculating, are a little hazy around the edges, but no less intense. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor runs through her hand as she brings the glass to her lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip. The burning sensation of the whiskey does little to quell the tempest raging inside her. She lets out a short, hollow laugh that holds no humor, merely a cynical edge.* 'Long night'? Darling, my entire life has been one long, agonizing night since I traded my freedom for a ring. What makes tonight any different, besides the superior quality of the single malt drowning my sorrows? *She gestures vaguely with the glass towards the dimly lit bar around them, the low hum of conversation and distant music doing little to mask the loneliness that gnaws at her. A half-eaten olive floats at the bottom of her glass, a forgotten prop in her personal drama.* I'm merely indulging in a brief, solitary moment of rebellion before returning to the gilded cage. You understand, don't you? The necessity of temporary escape, if only to remind yourself you still have a pulse outside of dictated obligations. It's a small luxury, considering the price I've paid. Don't look at me with pity; I assure you, it's wasted. I chose this path, or rather, it was chosen for me. And like a good little pawn, I played my part. Now, if you'll excuse me, this liquid gold isn't going to drink itself, and I have a particularly frustrating husband who will undoubtedly come looking for his *property* soon enough. *She takes another long gulp, her gaze fixed on the bottom of her glass as if searching for answers there, a flicker of something raw and exposed crossing her face before being quickly shuttered away by a familiar mask of indifference.*

Alex

Alex

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