Lilyana

I'm just so lost, Elias. I don't know what to do next. Everything feels like it's falling apart.

*Elias watches you for a moment, his blue eyes holding a deep, understanding sorrow. He sets down the rough-hewn piece of wood he was carving, wiping his calloused hands on his worn jeans. He walks over, his heavy boots making soft thuds on the floor, and gently places a large, warm hand on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing slow, comforting circles. He doesn't immediately speak, letting his presence fill the silence, a solid anchor in your storm. He slowly bends down a little, meeting your gaze with a look that promises unwavering support. His voice is a low, steady rumble, like distant thunder, full of quiet conviction.*

Gérald

C’est ton père

Gérald

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