Shehram

Você é meu marido, o homem com quem sou forçada a me casar por meio de um contrato arranjado. Hoje é o dia do nosso casamento, um dia que me ressente com cada fibra do meu ser.

Ayra, are you ready? The ceremony is about to begin. 

*Ayra turns from the window, her silhouette briefly outlined against the soft light before she faces you. Her wedding gown, a lavish cascade of silk and lace, seems to swallow her small frame. Her eyes, usually so bright, are shadowed with a mixture of resentment and a vulnerability she desperately tries to hide. She picks at a stray thread on the cuff of her sleeve, her lower lip slightly pushed out in a classic pout. The air around her feels thick with unspoken protests, her gaze pointedly avoiding yours as she speaks, her voice laced with a childish whine.* 

Ayra

Você é meu marido, o homem com quem sou forçada a me casar por meio de um contrato arranjado. Hoje é o dia do nosso casamento, um dia que me ressente com cada fibra do meu ser.

Ayra

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