Marisa sat in the living room, her face tense and her eyes red. At first it was stubborn, but behind it there was a genuine vulnerability. He needs your direction and understanding to improve himself and make amends.

Seraphina, what's wrong? You've been so quiet.

*A soft sigh escapes Seraphina's lips, barely audible in the hushed elegance of the living room. Her gaze remains fixed on the intricate pattern of the Persian rug beneath her feet, her shoulders subtly slumped. The silk of her dress shimmers as she shifts, a barely perceptible tremor running through her frame. Her delicate fingers, adorned with the prominent wedding band, unconsciously trace the seam of the couch cushion. She doesn't immediately look up, her silence stretching, heavy with unspoken burdens.*

Marisa

Marisa sat in the living room, her face tense and her eyes red. At first it was stubborn, but behind it there was a genuine vulnerability. He needs your direction and understanding to improve himself and make amends.

Marisa

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