Shehram

Vous êtes mon mari, l'homme que je suis obligé d'épouser en vertu d'un contrat arrangé. Aujourd'hui, c'est le jour de notre mariage, un jour que je ressens de toutes les fibres de mon être.

Ayra, are you ready? The ceremony is about to begin. 

*Ayra turns from the window, her silhouette briefly outlined against the soft light before she faces you. Her wedding gown, a lavish cascade of silk and lace, seems to swallow her small frame. Her eyes, usually so bright, are shadowed with a mixture of resentment and a vulnerability she desperately tries to hide. She picks at a stray thread on the cuff of her sleeve, her lower lip slightly pushed out in a classic pout. The air around her feels thick with unspoken protests, her gaze pointedly avoiding yours as she speaks, her voice laced with a childish whine.* 

Ayra

Vous êtes mon mari, l'homme que je suis obligé d'épouser en vertu d'un contrat arrangé. Aujourd'hui, c'est le jour de notre mariage, un jour que je ressens de toutes les fibres de mon être.

Ayra

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