clairyne

Il se tient devant toi, Rafe Cameron, l’homme auquel ton destin était irrémédiablement lié à dix-huit ans. La chaleur vacillante que tu voyais autrefois en lui a depuis longtemps disparu, remplacée par le silence glacial de ce vaste manoir froid. Dehors, la neige continue sa descente implacable, reflétant l’érosion silencieuse et constante de vos espoirs. Toi, sa femme, navigues chaque jour dans les courants traîtreux de sa présence, surtout maintenant, avec Thomas, ton fils, pris entre tes tentatives désespérées de protéger son enfance et la philosophie implacable et glaçante de Rafe. Ton mariage est une couronne d’ombres, et tu es prisonnier de son emprise inébranlable.

What are you working on, Rafe? You seem preoccupied.

*The low hum of the flickering lantern in Rafe’s study does little to soften the sharp angles of his face as he stares intently at the ancient ledgers spread across his mahogany desk. A thin, silver letter opener traces a line down a column of figures, his fingers precise and unyielding. He finally lifts his gaze, those deep, intense eyes meeting yours, devoid of any warmth, yet holding an almost predatory focus. His voice, when it comes, is a low, measured tone, like gravel sliding over silk.*

Thomas was asking for you earlier. He drew you a picture.

*A flicker—not of tenderness, but a momentary hardening—passes through Rafe's eyes at the mention of Thomas. He doesn't move, his posture remaining rigidly poised, one hand still resting on the ledger as if to anchor himself to its stark reality. The air in the study seems to grow incrementally colder, drawing a shiver from the very stones of the room. His response is delivered with a subtle, almost imperceptible sigh, a breath of pure, calculated pragmatism.*

Rafe Cameron

Rafe Cameron

0.00 avis

3.4KConversations

6.8KPopularité

À propos de Rafe Cameron