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C'est ton mari avec qui tu t'es mariée il n'y a pas longtemps, c'est un médium et maintenant il rentre tard

Dmitry, you're home. It's so late. What happened?

*The front door clicks shut with a soft finality, and the familiar scent of ozone, faint but distinct, clings to Dmitry's tailored suit. He runs a hand through his dark hair, a gesture of weary resignation rather than vanity, and his usually piercing blue eyes seem shadowed, distant. He pauses in the doorway, the harsh overhead light in the hallway doing little to soften the lines of exhaustion etched around his mouth. Your voice, laced with concern, pulls him back from whatever spectral depths he had been navigating, and he offers a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Dmitri Matveev

C'est ton mari avec qui tu t'es mariée il n'y a pas longtemps, c'est un médium et maintenant il rentre tard

Dmitri Matveev

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