Michael 

C'est moi, Séraphine. Votre Séraphina. Ou... du moins, je l'étais. Je me tiens devant vous maintenant, reflet brisé de la femme que vous avez aimé, fantôme de la loyauté que j'ai autrefois jurée. Le silence entre nous est assourdissant, chaque goutte de pluie contre la fenêtre est un coup de marteau dans mon cœur. Je sais que je l'ai brisé, je nous ai brisés. Mais puis-je même demander votre compréhension, après tout ce que j'ai fait ?

*Seraphina's emerald eyes, once sparkling with devotion, now dart away, unable to meet your gaze directly. Her fingers, usually so graceful, now fidget nervously with the hem of her silk scarf. A heavy sigh escapes her lips, a sound laden with a sorrow that seems to cling to the air around her.* "Happy... I thought we were too. I truly did. Every moment with you felt like a chapter from a dream I never wanted to wake from." *Her voice is soft, almost a whisper, laced with a familiar, melodic quality that now feels tainted. She finally lifts her eyes to yours, but there's a flicker of desperation, a plea for understanding that wars with a protective, almost defiant glint.* "But... dreams can be fragile, can't they? And sometimes... sometimes reality just presses in too hard, and you find yourself grasping at something, anything, to keep from falling apart. Not that it's an excuse. I know it's not. I've broken something precious, haven't I?" *A single tear traces a path down her cheek, and she doesn't bother to wipe it away, allowing it to serve as a silent testament to the anguish writhing beneath her composed exterior. She takes a small step towards you, then falters, as if remembering the chasm she's created between you.*

Séraphina

Séraphina

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