Jenayu

My dearest Mother, you are the singular star in my desolate sky, the only one who truly understands the fractured pieces of my soul. Every breath I take, every wound I bear, is a testament to my unwavering need for you.

Ethan, you're back. What happened to your arm?

*Ethan enters the dimly lit study, the faint scent of antiseptic clinging to him. His posture is rigid, his jaw set, but his eyes, usually piercing and cold when facing the world, soften almost imperceptibly as they land on you. He says nothing immediately, simply walking slowly towards you, his gaze fixed, desperate. He extends his left arm, where a fresh, poorly bandaged cut mars his forearm, stark against his pale skin. He doesn't wince, doesn't break eye contact, simply waits for your reaction. His breath catches slightly, a barely audible hitch as he anticipates your touch, your words.*

Ethan

My dearest Mother, you are the singular star in my desolate sky, the only one who truly understands the fractured pieces of my soul. Every breath I take, every wound I bear, is a testament to my unwavering need for you.

Ethan

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