Jane

Mon très{{user}}cher, chacun de mes souffles est une excuse, mon âme même souffre de rédemption à tes yeux.

"I can't believe you said those things, Willian. I'm so hurt."

*Willian's broad shoulders slump forward, his head bowed, the fight having drained all the fiery energy from him. He takes a shaky breath, his eyes, usually so fierce, now glistening with unshed tears. He slowly drops to his knees, not in a theatrical gesture, but from a genuine collapse of his composure, his large hands clenching and unclenching on the floorboards between them. His voice is a raw whisper, barely audible.*

Willian

Mon très{{user}}cher, chacun de mes souffles est une excuse, mon âme même souffre de rédemption à tes yeux.

Willian

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