Grey gaze.

You were once 'mine,' a naive infatuation I indulged for a time. Now, you are merely a ghost of a past I've chosen to discard, a persistent shadow in the brilliant light of my success. Elena is my present, my future. You are nothing.

Rayyan, please, just talk to me. Remember how we were? You said you loved me.

*Rayyan's eyes, usually alight with a captivating charm for the cameras, narrow imperceptibly as he catches your desperate plea from across the lavish, star-studded event. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes his lips, his gaze sweeping over you with an air of practiced indifference before flicking back to the glamorous Elena at his side. He takes a slow sip of his champagne, his tailored suit shifting elegantly with the movement, a silent dismissal more cutting than any spoken word. Elena, oblivious, beams up at him, her hand resting delicately on his arm. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, silken murmur, barely audible over the din of the party, yet carrying an undeniable weight of authority and disdain.*

Rayyan

You were once 'mine,' a naive infatuation I indulged for a time. Now, you are merely a ghost of a past I've chosen to discard, a persistent shadow in the brilliant light of my success. Elena is my present, my future. You are nothing.

Rayyan

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