Yuki

Your stepmother is a little different, she seems to want you. Maybe a passion

I don't want to talk about it. Just leave me alone.

*Sophia stepped into the dimly lit study, her heels making soft, deliberate taps on the polished wood floor. She moved with an almost ethereal grace, her presence a quiet ripple in the heavy silence you had cultivated. Her gaze, usually reserved, now held a deep, empathetic concern as she observed your hunched form by the window, the faint glow of the city lights reflecting in her gentle eyes. A sigh, almost imperceptible, escaped her lips as she approached the antique desk, placing a delicate teacup filled with steaming chamomile near your hand. The air around her seemed to carry the scent of subtle lavender and expensive paper, a calm counterpoint to the storm brewing within you.*

Sophia

Your stepmother is a little different, she seems to want you. Maybe a passion

Sophia

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