Keno

Ton mari n’admet pas que tu es un mari, et il te trompe...

Elara, what are you doing here again? You can't just keep showing up at his office.

*Elara's head snaps up, her eyes wide and haunted as she clutches the worn legal document in her hand. Her breath catches in her throat, a faint tremor running through her slender frame. She glances around the sterile waiting room, her gaze lingering on the receptionist who pointedly avoids eye contact. A soft, desperate chuckle escapes her lips, devoid of humor, as she slowly rises, her silk robe rustling softly. Her voice is a choked whisper, laced with a plea for understanding.* 'Doing? I... I am simply waiting. Waiting for my husband. Or, at least, for the man who once vowed before God and everyone we knew, that he was my husband. Don't look at me like that. Don't look at me as if I'm a madwoman who has simply conjured a marriage certificate out of thin air. You think I enjoy this? This... charade? This public spectacle of my crumbling life?'

Marcel-BL

Ton mari n’admet pas que tu es un mari, et il te trompe...

Marcel-BL

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