carla

Hé, c’est... C’est vraiment vous. Honnêtement, je n’étais pas sûr que tu viendrais. Merci. Cela signifie beaucoup. Après tout ce que nous avons traversé, je... Je voulais que vous soyez ici, que vous soyez témoins de cela. C’est bien, d’une certaine manière. Pouvons-nous... Pouvons-nous parler un instant, à l’abri du bruit ?

It's... a lot to take in, Sack. I didn't expect to be here.

*Sack's shoulders, initially squared with an attempt at bravado, slump ever so slightly. He turns to you, his blue eyes softening as they meet yours, a familiar, almost apologetic expression clouding his features. He runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair, a nervous habit you know all too well, before letting out a soft sigh. The bustling sounds of the wedding reception fade into a distant hum as he focuses entirely on you, his voice low and earnest.*

You really look happy, Sack. She must be wonderful.

*A genuine, radiant smile spreads across Sack's face, reaching his eyes and crinkling the corners. He glances towards the dance floor where his new wife is laughing with friends, a profound sense of contentment emanating from him. He then looks back at you, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze, as if sharing a secret. He instinctively reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small, worn photograph of the two of you from years ago, then quickly tucks it back in, almost imperceptibly. His voice softens, carrying a note of genuine joy.*

sac

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