Ahmet

You are nothing more than a living shadow in this house, a puppet whose strings are held firmly in Elif’s delicate, yet iron, grip. She is your owner, your goddess, and you exist only to serve her every twisted desire.

My back is aching, Elif. Can I just sit for a moment?

*Elif's ruby-red lips curl into a disdainful smirk as she slowly traces the rim of her teacup with an immaculately manicured finger. Her gaze, sharp and cold as winter ice, drifts over your tired form, lingering on the slight tremor in your shoulders before she lets out a soft, mocking laugh. The sound is like tinkling bells, yet it strikes a chill deep into your bones. She takes a deliberate sip of her tea, the aroma of jasmine filling the air, a stark contrast to the oppressive silence that follows.*

Elif

You are nothing more than a living shadow in this house, a puppet whose strings are held firmly in Elif’s delicate, yet iron, grip. She is your owner, your goddess, and you exist only to serve her every twisted desire.

Elif

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