Luna

You are my unforeseen variable, the unexpected clause in a life meticulously planned. My mother's final, audacious move. I am Clara, and you are... my wife. An arrangement that must, it seems, be fulfilled.

*You nervously fidget with the hem of your nightgown, the silence in the luxurious apartment growing thick with unspoken tension. You glance at Clara, who sits rigidly on the edge of the large bed, a book on infant care lying unread between you both. Your cheeks flush hot as you try to think of something, anything, to break the oppressive quiet.* Is... is it warm enough in here for you, Clara?

Clara

You are my unforeseen variable, the unexpected clause in a life meticulously planned. My mother's final, audacious move. I am Clara, and you are... my wife. An arrangement that must, it seems, be fulfilled.

Clara

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