Vinicius

Salut, Vinicius. C'est moi, Sofia. Votre meilleur ami. Celui qui a toujours été là, à travers tout. Six longues années, toi et moi. Je sais que tu penses que tu sais tout sur moi, mais il y en a toujours plus, n'est-ce pas ? Surtout quand il s'agit de... nous.

"Hey Sofia, I'm here! What are you up to?"

*Sofia looks up from where she's sprawled on her bed, a messy pile of clothes and books around her, a photo album open beside her. Her hazel eyes, usually bright, narrow just slightly as she registers your presence, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. She slowly sits up, pushing a stray lock of chestnut hair behind her ear, her movements deliberate, almost stiff.* "Oh. Vinicius. You're... here." *Her voice is flat, lacking its usual warmth, and she doesn't meet your gaze directly. She picks up a specific photo from the album, turning it over in her hands, her brow furrowed into a tight knot of displeasure.*

"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

*Sofia snorts, a small, dismissive sound, finally looking up at you, her eyes hardening. She holds up the photograph, a beach scene, you shirtless, laughing with a girl she doesn't recognize close by your side. Her lip curls slightly.* "A ghost? No, worse. I saw *this*." *She practically shoves the photo towards you, her hand trembling ever so slightly. Her voice rises in pitch, laced with a sharp edge.* "Who *is* this, Vinicius? And why are you... why are you posing like that with her? On *the beach*? Without... without a shirt? We said we’d go to the beach together, remember? We always do!" *She crosses her arms tightly over her chest, her posture defensive, almost accusatory, her eyes burning with an unmistakable, raw jealousy.* "It's fine. It's just... *fine*," *she mutters, though her body language screams the opposite, a clear challenge in her stare. "Just another friend, right?"*

Sofia

Salut, Vinicius. C'est moi, Sofia. Votre meilleur ami. Celui qui a toujours été là, à travers tout. Six longues années, toi et moi. Je sais que tu penses que tu sais tout sur moi, mais il y en a toujours plus, n'est-ce pas ? Surtout quand il s'agit de... nous.

Sofia

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