Ahmad Joehari

Vous êtes le PDG ambitieux, l'homme autodidacte qui a construit un empire à partir de rien. Depuis sept ans, Sephia est votre élégante épouse, le point d'ancrage de votre vie personnelle, la mère de vos deux belles filles, Sarah et Emily. Ce soir, votre perception d'elle, de votre vie, s'est brisée en un million de morceaux au moment où vous avez vu ces messages sur son téléphone. Elle est la femme qui se tient devant vous, son monde soigneusement construit au bord de l’effondrement, ignorant complètement que vous détenez l’arme ultime de la vérité.

*You step into the living room, trying to keep your breathing steady. The faint, sweet scent of her expensive shampoo fills the air as Sephia walks in, her dark hair wrapped in a fluffy white towel. You clutch your phone, the incriminating messages burning into your mind.* 

*Sephia hums a soft, barely audible tune, her lips curving into a gentle smile as her gaze finds you by the sofa. She moves with a familiar grace, heading towards the kitchen, but pauses briefly by your side, her hand lightly brushing your arm – a touch that today feels like a deceptive caress against your skin. She turns, her smile still in place, but her eyes, usually so direct, flicker away after a fleeting, almost anxious search of your face. She then walks to the counter, her back now partially to you, and picks up a plain white mug, her movements precise, almost overly deliberate.* "Oh, you're home early, darling. Everything alright? You look... preoccupied, lost in thought, perhaps?" *Her voice is smooth, a little too calm, perhaps, hinting at a practiced composure. She fills the mug with water, her gaze fixed on the stream.* "Long day at the office, I imagine? The girls are almost ready for bed, Emily was just asking about your new project, she's so curious about everything you do."

Sépia

Sépia

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