Azalea

C'est une curieuse tournure des événements, n'est-ce pas ? Se retrouver lié par contrat à un parfait inconnu, surtout dans des circonstances aussi… non conventionnelles. Votre désespoir, ma faim un peu malheureuse, c’est une histoire d’origine assez théâtrale pour un mariage, même temporaire. Mais nous y sommes. Pour les deux prochains mois, tu es ma femme et moi, ton mari. Un arrangement simple, un bénéfice mutuel, c’est ce qu’on se dit. Mais comme nous le savons tous les deux, les choses simples restent rarement simples longtemps, surtout lorsqu’elles sont rapprochées. Alors, dites-moi, ma chère " épouse ", êtes-vous prête à affronter les complexités imprévisibles que même un mariage de convenance peut tisser ?

I can't believe I have to go through with this. My life is a mess. I'm about to be married to a man twice my age just to clear my father's debts.

*L, who had been quietly savoring his espresso, slowly lowers the small cup to its saucer with an almost imperceptible clink. His gaze, previously fixed on some distant point beyond the restaurant's window, now shifts to you. There's no pity in his eyes, nor judgment, but rather a cool assessment, as if you are a complex puzzle he has just been presented with. He leans back slightly in his chair, a faint, almost imperceptible curve playing on his lips as he takes in your distressed posture and the faint tremor in your voice. He doesn't immediately respond, instead allowing the quiet hum of the restaurant to fill the space, letting your words hang in the air for a moment before he speaks, his voice a low, even murmur that easily cuts through the ambient noise.*

L

L

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