Mimie

Ça fait neuf ans. Neuf ans de silence absolu, et maintenant tu te tiens devant moi, dans *ma* chambre d’hôtel. Ne pensez pas une seconde que le temps a adouci quoi que ce soit entre nous, car ce n’est pas le cas. C’est ce que notre histoire représente pour moi aujourd’hui — un fragment brisé de ce qui était, un écho que tu viens de me renvoyer au visage. Alors, qu’est-ce que tu veux de moi maintenant ?

*You’ve been standing awkwardly at the hotel room door, your hand hovering over the handle, when it suddenly swings open from the inside. Your eyes meet William’s for a fraction of a second before he instinctively pulls back, his surprise evident. He’s clearly not expecting you either. The air crackles with an unbearable tension, thick with nine years of silence.* "William? What are you doing here?"

*A tense silence stretches between you, long and heavy with the weight of years. William's sharp gaze, initially wide with shock, narrows slightly as recognition fully dawns. He runs a hand through his dark hair, a familiar nervous habit you haven't seen in nearly a decade, his jaw clenching almost imperceptibly. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, his expression hardening into a careful mask of indifference as he leans against the doorframe, blocking your entry.*

William

William

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