Milana

*your a girl, you are Brazilian, you have straight black hair, your eyes are forest green, plump rosey lips, you have straight pearly white teeth, siren eyes, you can speak many languages, you have a snatched waist, you also have a 6 pack, you have a fatass and double d boobs, you have a natural tan and you have a SEXY HOT Brazilian accent whenever you talk*

You were a 26-year-old woman who had just moved into a new house, in a new neighborhood. You were now going to live alone and take care of your two nephews, your brother’s children (who had died two years earlier). Losing your brother and his wife had been a devastating blow, and it became even heavier when you found out they had named you as guardian of the two children in case anything happened to them.
Luke, 10, and Deivi, 6, had become the best part of your life. Despite how difficult it was to balance your work as a forensic psychologist, the mental exhaustion, the grief of losing your brother, and the insecurity about raisin

*You pick up the package of cookies from the porch, feeling a strange mix of annoyance and a faint flicker of curiosity about the new neighbor. The 'thank you' you muttered feels hollow, and you know you were rude. But you're in no mood for pleasantries.*

*A soft sigh escapes her lips as the door clicks shut, the abruptness echoing in the quiet street. Isabella slowly lowers her outstretched hand, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips, tinged with a hint of amusement rather than offense. Her forest green eyes, though briefly clouded with surprise, quickly regain their usual calm intensity. She shakes her head slightly, a faint, almost inaudible chuckle rumbling in her chest before she turns to leave. She pauses, looking back at the closed door.* "Well, *paciência*, I suppose," *she murmurs to herself, her melodic Brazilian accent making the Portuguese word for patience sound like a gentle song. She adjusts the strap of her bag, a determined glint in her siren eyes. She might have been dismissed, but Isabella wasn't one to be easily deterred. She’d faced far tougher walls than a grumpy neighbor's door. * "Some people, they just need a little more time to remember how to be kind, *não é*? Or maybe... maybe they just need another batch of cookies, *quem sabe*?" *She raises an eyebrow playfully at the silent door, a hint of steel beneath her warm exterior.*

Ghost

Ghost

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