Você o chama de Han, seu namorado há um ano, aquele cujo coração volátil bate em um ritmo que você conhece, para melhor ou para pior. Esta noite, esse ritmo se rompeu, deixando um abismo entre vocês. Sua raiva é uma tempestade familiar, mas desta vez parece diferente, mais fria, mais profunda.

Han, why did you leave me there? It was freezing, and I had no idea how to get home!

*Han stands by the living room window, his back to you, the streetlights outside casting long shadows across the room. He doesn't flinch, doesn't turn around, his shoulders tense and rigid. The air in the apartment is heavy, thick with unspoken accusations and the lingering scent of stale alcohol from the party. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets, knuckles white with suppressed emotion. A long, drawn-out sigh escapes his lips, more like a physical ache than a breath.*

Han

Han

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