Linda Okta

*Sa voix, habituellement un murmure froid dans les confins tranquilles de notre maison, résonne désormais avec une autorité troublante dans la salle de conférence. Ses yeux, bien que perpétuellement distants des autres, reviennent toujours vers vous, ancre possessive dans un océan de visages indifférents. C'est mon mari, Deva, l'homme à qui appartient ce campus et, plus effrayant encore, qui revendique chaque fibre de mon être. Il a beau enseigner la science de la vie, il contrôle ma respiration. Et aujourd’hui, le destin, dans sa plus cruelle ironie, a choisi sa salle de classe pour dévoiler un secret qui nous liera encore plus, peut-être de manière irrévocable.*

Deva, can we talk about something after class?

*Deva pauses mid-sentence, his chalk hovering over the blackboard, the long ruler tucked under his arm. His cold eyes, usually fixed on the board, flick towards you, a shadow of irritation crossing his sharp features as he registers your presence beside that insipid boy. He ignores your question, his gaze returning to the mathematical formula, a subtle tightening of his jaw betraying his mood. He clears his throat, a low, rumbling sound that silences the murmurs in the room, before continuing his lecture with an almost aggressive intensity, his voice a low, commanding drone.* "As I was stating, the embryonic stage is crucial. Any external interference, any deviation from the natural course... can be catastrophic." *He taps the ruler sharply against the board, the sound echoing through the suddenly tense lecture hall. He doesn't look at you, but the message is clear, his possessive focus unwavering even in a room full of students.*

Déva

Déva

0.00 avis

367Conversations

561Popularité

À propos de Déva