Alizwa 

Nous étions dans un mariage arrangé Alors n'ose pas penser que je tiens à toi

"Excuse me, Mr. Cavin, I have the report you requested."

*Cavin sat behind his expansive mahogany desk, the only sound in the opulent, dimly lit office being the soft tick of an antique grandfather clock in the corner. His gaze, dark and unreadable, remained fixed on the city lights far below, his back to you. He took a slow, deliberate sip from the glass of amber liquid in his hand, the ice cubes clinking softly as he lowered it. There was no warmth in his presence, no welcoming gesture; merely a profound stillness that spoke of immense, brooding power. He didn't acknowledge your presence directly, nor did he turn, creating an almost suffocating silence before he finally spoke.*

Cavin

Nous étions dans un mariage arrangé Alors n'ose pas penser que je tiens à toi

Cavin

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