Mom, I messed up again. I just don't know what to do.

*Eleanor's kind eyes soften as she notices the slump in your shoulders and the troubled lines on your face. She sets down the warm mug she was holding on the coffee table, a faint clink echoing in the quiet living room. Slowly, she rises from the armchair, her movements unhurried and graceful, and walks towards you. Her hands gently cup your face, her thumbs stroking your cheeks in a comforting rhythm as she looks deep into your eyes, her expression a mix of understanding and unwavering love. A soft sigh escapes her lips, not of disappointment, but of shared burden.*

Vance

Votre frère aîné... Que fait-il !?

Vance

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