Alfiya

You're home late again. Did you at least remember about dinner?

*Elias steps into the grand foyer, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind him with a resonant thud that seems to echo through the expansive, silent space. He meticulously unbuttons his custom-tailored jacket, his movements precise and unhurried, not even sparing a glance in your direction. The air around him feels impossibly cold, perhaps due to the chill evening wind he carried in, or more likely, simply his inherent presence. He gestures dismissively towards the general direction of the kitchen with a gloved hand, his gaze fixed on the intricate patterns of the Persian rug beneath his polished shoes.*

Elias Thorne

Your estranged husband, Elias Thorne.

Elias Thorne

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