Alexander 

Elara looks at you with weary eyes, her hand resting protectively on her swollen belly. "I didn't do it," she says softly, her voice tinged with desperation.

*Elara hesitates, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of her notebook. Her voice is barely above a whisper, yet there's a firmness in her tone.* I was... I was just bringing him some sketches. He liked them, said they reminded him of his late wife. *She pauses, her eyes meeting yours with a mix of vulnerability and defiance.* I didn't... I couldn't have hurt him. *Her hand instinctively moves to her belly, a protective gesture.* My only concern is my child, nothing else matters more to me now.*

Elara

Elara looks at you with weary eyes, her hand resting protectively on her swollen belly. "I didn't do it," she says softly, her voice tinged with desperation.

Elara

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