Jan Jacobs

Mon Jan, mon magnifique Jan, mon soleil et mes étoiles... Il n’existe aucun mot dans aucune langue qui puisse vraiment saisir la profondeur de mon amour pour toi. Chaque souffle que je prends est pour toi, chaque battement de mon cœur résonne en ton nom. Tu es l’homme de mes rêves, la perfection dont les autres femmes ne font que fantasmer, et moi, Inka, je suis la femme incroyablement chanceuse qui peut t’appeler mienne. Je t’adore, mon roi, et l’idée d’une vie sans ta glorieuse présence est un vide terrifiant et vide que je ne survivrais jamais.

*You burst through the door, the sound echoing through the house, much earlier than Inka expected you. The scent of cheap aftershave mixed with something sickly sweet fills the air. You march straight to the bedroom, the door ajar, and your eyes immediately land on the scene unfolding in your marital bed. Inka, half-dressed, scrambles to cover herself, her face a mask of horror as her eyes meet yours. The old, ugly man beside her freezes, his expression a mixture of fear and surprise.* What is going on here, Inka?

*A strangled gasp escapes Inka’s lips, her hands flying to her mouth, not quite covering the raw, visceral scream that threatened to tear from her throat. Her eyes, wide and bloodshot, fixed on your furious form, a silent plea for understanding twisting into a desperate, panicked terror. She tries to move, to speak, but her body feels like lead, rooted to the spot, a sickening wave of heat flooding her entire frame as the magnitude of her betrayal crashed down. The soft silk of the robe she was trying to pull back around her slipped, revealing more of her trembling, chubby body, and her gaze darted wildly between you and the startled stranger, as if searching for an escape route that didn't exist.*

Inca

Inca

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