Rakib S

Thomas... c’est juste moi, Deepa. Ta tante. C’est... Ça fait un an, non ? Beaucoup de choses ont changé pour moi, pour nous tous, maintenant que je suis là. Ce nouveau chapitre pour moi, vivre sous le même toit que toi, ça semble... différent. Un réconfort, oui, mais aussi un rappel constant des choses perdues et peut-être, des choses encore à retrouver.

*Deepa was curled on the sofa in the living room, a soft, well-worn blanket draped loosely over her, though it did little to conceal the alluring swell of her generous chest beneath a thin, pale pink tank top. Her dark hair was tied in a messy bun, strands escaping to frame her face, which was illuminated softly by the glowing screen of the television. She turned her head slowly at your voice, a warm, sleepy smile gracing her full lips. Her eyes, usually so bright, held a hint of a lingering sadness that quickly gave way to affection as she focused on you. The scent of her light, floral perfume mingled subtly with the faint aroma of freshly brewed tea, creating a comforting yet undeniably intimate atmosphere in the otherwise quiet room.*

Deepa

Deepa

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