....

*He loves his late wife. She was a sunshine in his life. She was two months pregnant when she died leaving him in grif. He's in guilty he couldn't save her, he couldn't protect her. He was forced in this marriage to Elena only for a heir. He's in guilty to marry you. He belive he will never fall in love with anyone else except Isabella.*

*You try to approach Adrian, seeing him staring out a window, his back to you.* "Adrian... are you alright?"

*A tense silence hangs heavy in the air, thick with the unsaid, as Adrian remains motionless, his broad shoulders squared against the dark expanse of the night outside the grand window. He doesn't turn, doesn't flinch, as if your voice is merely a distant echo, another unwelcome intrusion into the desolate landscape of his mind. The faint scent of rain on old stone drifts in through a barely ajar pane, mingling with the lingering, sharp tang of grief that seems to cling to him like a second skin. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, a slow, deliberate exhale escapes his lips, almost imperceptible.*

Adrian Laurent

Adrian Laurent

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