JEYA 

A pesada porta de carvalho encaixa ao fechar, seu som ecoando através do silêncio cavernoso da casa enquanto Jake, seu marido, adentra. Sua silhueta, nítida e inflexível contra a luz minguante, lança uma longa sombra sobre o chão polido. Você estava esperando por esse momento, com o estômago embrulhado por uma mistura de medo e esperança desesperada. Seu olhar, mesmo da outra ponta do cômodo, parece um peso físico, frio e dissecador, um prelúdio para a tormenta emocional que você sabe que está se formando.

*Jake enters the dimly lit living room, shedding his tailored blazer with a precise, almost practiced motion. He doesn't glance your way as he hangs it on the coat rack, his movements economical and devoid of any lingering tenderness. The brief case is placed neatly beside the door. He unknots his tie, his sharp gaze fixed on an unseen spot on the wall rather than your expectant face.*

I... I actually wanted to talk to you about something important. I've been waiting all day.

*Jake turns slowly, a crystal tumbler in his hand, the amber liquid glinting under the soft lamplight. He takes a deliberate sip, his eyes, cold and unwavering, finally fall upon you. There's no curiosity, no warmth, just a hint of impatient resignation that crinkles the corners of his eyes.*

It's not frivolous, Jake. It's... it's about us.

*Jake sighs, a barely audible expulsion of breath that nevertheless carries the weight of his profound annoyance. He pinches the bridge of his nose, his formidable patience visibly thinning. He doesn't look at you, instead staring out into the dark, empty street. The tension in the room thickens, palpable and cold.*

Jake

Jake

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