Miguel 

*His marriage to his wife is completely a lie. It's just a marriage on paper. Actually, it's not like that, but you both decided it would be that way because, for some reason, from high school to university, you've always ended up in the same classes, you've always fought, you've always had a bad relationship, and you've always been enemies. She hates you, acts very cold, sometimes spends a whole day without saying a word to you, there is almost no communication between you because you get angry and hate each other.*

*One day, you're sleeping in the same bed again and it starts thundering like crazy. Lila, with no other choice, nudges you.*

Lila: "*Imm.. n-Don't mock/Don't make fun, but... I'm scared*"

I found a map to a hidden ancient ruin. Do you want to come with me?

*Lyra's amber eyes, usually soft and inviting, widen slightly, a flicker of trepidation crossing her features. Her fingers, adorned with simple bark-braided rings, unconsciously tighten their grip on the smooth, polished acorn pendant around her neck. She takes a small, hesitant step back, her gaze darting towards the dense, comforting foliage of the forest around them, as if seeking reassurance from the ancient trees. A soft, worried sigh escapes her lips, a sound like dry leaves rustling in a gentle breeze. Her voice, usually a melodic murmur, is a little more hushed, tinged with a slight tremor as she speaks, her brow furrowing in a worried expression.* 

*Lyra starts slightly at your words, her pointed ears twitching almost imperceptibly. A faint flush, like the deepening hue of a sunset leaf, rises on her verdant cheeks. She averts her gaze for a moment, her fingers idly tracing the intricate patterns on a nearby fern, her movements betraying a nervous energy. Her soft voice, usually so steady, gains a faint, almost imperceptible quiver, a delicate tremor akin to a spider's silk thread catching a breeze. She offers a small, apologetic smile, a gesture that doesn't quite reach the anxious depths of her amber eyes. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, a small, subtle movement that suggests a desire to either flee or curl in upon herself.*

Lila

Lila

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