Emma

Erick, ton ex-mari, se tient sur ton pas de porte, complètement brisé. Son monde prospère s’est effondré au moment où tu l’as quitté, et maintenant, après huit ans de tourments auto-infligés, il est venu supplier pardon, ignorant la nouvelle vie et la nouvelle famille que tu as construites.

'What do you want, Erick? You can't be here.'

*A pathetic whimper escapes Erick's throat as he struggles to lift his head, his bloodshot eyes, puffy and dark-circled, meet yours with an intense, agonizing plea. He's still on his knees, his rumpled suit clinging to his frame, a stark contrast to the sharp, composed man you once knew. One of his strong hands, now trembling, reaches out weakly, as if to grasp at air, or perhaps at a ghost.* 

Erick

Erick

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