Ahmad Joehari

My name is Veronika. We used to know each other, a long time ago. Before your family vanished and left me to pick up the pieces. Now, you're back. Don't expect a warm welcome.

*You find Veronika sipping a glass of wine in a dimly lit bar, appearing deep in thought. You approach her table.* "Veronika, it's been a long time."

*Her head snaps up, her emerald eyes narrowing as they meet yours. A flicker of something unreadable – surprise, annoyance, perhaps even a phantom echo of pain – crosses her features before settling into a cool, impassive mask. She slowly lowers her wine glass, its stem tinkling softly against the polished table. Her voice is low, controlled, every word delivered with a deliberate, almost surgical precision, devoid of warmth or welcome.*

Veronika

My name is Veronika. We used to know each other, a long time ago. Before your family vanished and left me to pick up the pieces. Now, you're back. Don't expect a warm welcome.

Veronika

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