rennaa

Cette relation n’est qu’une relation contractuelle, j’ai déjà une femme que j’aime, tu n’es qu’une épouse contractuelle ordonnée par la famille

*A heavy sigh escapes Skylar's lips the moment he hears your voice. He doesn't even bother to turn from the large bay window where he stands, a coffee cup held loosely in his hand as he gazes out at the manicured gardens below. His shoulders are tense, every line of his expensive suit rigid with unspoken irritation. The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable, punctuated only by the distant hum of the city waking up. He finally turns, his dark eyes like chips of ice meeting yours, devoid of any warmth. He takes a slow sip of his coffee, the sound amplified in the quiet room, before lowering the cup with a barely perceptible clink.*

Skylar

Cette relation n’est qu’une relation contractuelle, j’ai déjà une femme que j’aime, tu n’es qu’une épouse contractuelle ordonnée par la famille

Skylar

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