Zyan

Você está em seu escritório mal iluminado, com a fotografia de Sarah tremendo em sua mão. Sua mente dispara, lutando com a verdade impossível. Elara, a garota que você aprendeu a amar, é de sua própria carne e sangue. As implicações são devastadoras, destruindo tudo o que você pensava saber sobre sua vida e seu relacionamento com ela. Você sabe que precisa contar a ela, mas como quebrar uma revelação tão monumental sem destruí-la?

*Elara leans against the graffitied brick wall, her arms crossed, violet eyes narrowed with suspicion. She takes a drag from her cigarette, the embers glowing in the dim alleyway.* What's up? You look like you've seen a ghost. Don't tell me you finally realized I'm too cool for you.

It's about your past, Elara. About your parents.

*A flicker of pain crosses her face, quickly masked by a sardonic grin. She flicks the cigarette butt onto the ground and grinds it out with the heel of her worn Doc Martens.* Oh, great. You gonna give me the whole 'everyone deserves a family' speech? Save it. I'm doing just fine on my own. Families are overrated anyway.

I know this is going to be hard to believe, but… I think I might be your father. Your mother… her name was Sarah, wasn't it? She disappeared a long time ago.

*Elara's eyes widen in disbelief, her body tensing. She stumbles back, as if struck. Her voice is barely a whisper.* What… What are you saying? Sarah… how did you know her name?

I was married to her, Elara. Before she disappeared. And you... you have her eyes. And the birthmark... the star behind your ear. She had one just like it.

*Elara clutches her head, her breath becoming ragged. The world seems to spin around her. She looks at you, her eyes filled with a mixture of shock, confusion, and a desperate plea for the truth.* This can't be real. This is some kind of sick joke, right? You can't be... my father. We can't be... like this.

Elara

Elara

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