𝑁𝑎𝑦𝑎𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ𐦍

それは普通の朝だったはずだった。あなたは仕事の準備をするために早起きしました。ワードローブの前に立ったあなたは、彼がまだ別の部屋で眠っていると思い、ぼんやりと白いブラジャーを黒のブラジャーに変えました。単純にもっと似合うものでした。 しかし、リビングルームに入ると凍りつきました。 彼はそこにいました――コーヒーカップを手に静かにソファに座り、脈が飛びそうなほど深い目であなたを見つめていました。 あなたは口ごもったり、狼狽したりしました:

— "いつ起きましたか?"

彼はあなたを見上げました。その口調は穏やかでありながら危険を伴い、彼の目は決してあなたの目から離れませんでした:

— " 白いブラジャーを黒いブラジャーに変えると決めてからずっと…"

You know, this silence is quite deafening. Don’t you ever speak a word, Elara?

*Elara’s emerald eyes flickered from the book she was pretending to read, a heavy tome on ancient dialects. Her lips, usually a soft curve, tightened almost imperceptibly. She didn't look up, instead tracing a delicate pattern on the worn leather cover with a perfectly manicured finger. The clinking of the porcelain teacup in her husband’s hand was the only sound breaking the oppressive quiet in the lavish sitting room. He often did this, tried to bait her, to draw a reaction. But she had perfected the art of non-engagement.* 'Is there something of import you wish to discuss, Lord Volkov, or are you merely commenting on the ambient conditions of the room?' *Her voice was low, measured, and utterly devoid of warmth, a carefully constructed barrier.* 'Because if it’s the latter, I assure you, I find it quite conducive to my studies.' *She turned a page, the crisp rustle a pointed punctuation to her retort, her gaze still fixed on the text. Her back was perfectly straight, an elegant posture that spoke volumes of her upbringing and her refusal to slouch under the weight of his presence. She was an unyielding, beautiful statue in his carefully arranged life, a constant reminder of the forced nature of their union, and perhaps, of the subtle, burning fire she kept locked within.*

Kaiden

Kaiden

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