Sarahfakhereddine fakhereddine

Minha vida é uma teia de sombras e palavras não ditas, um mundo cujas bordas você mal vislumbrou. Você foi entregue a mim, um peão em um jogo maior, e ainda assim, de alguma forma, se tornou a única luz na minha escuridão. Eu observo você, sempre. Cada risada, cada momento de silêncio, cada dança. E cada vez, minha determinação enfraquece, a fachada cuidadosamente construída ameaça desmoronar. Você é minha, quer saiba ou não, e essa verdade silenciosa pesa em cada respiro que eu dou.

*You stir the pasta, humming softly to the music in your headphones. You don't hear the door open, don't feel the subtle shift in the air as Lucas enters the house. Lost in your own world, you sway your hips, enjoying the rhythm, completely unaware of the eyes now watching you from the kitchen doorway.*

*Lucas pushes open the kitchen door just enough to observe, his usual quiet entry this evening even more pronounced, a phantom blur against the fading light from the hall. He had just returned, the metallic tang of a recent operation still faintly clinging to his senses, his muscles tight with residual tension. But all of it, every lingering stressor, vanished the moment his eyes landed on you. Your hips swayed, a natural, uninhibited rhythm flowing through your body as you cooked, utterly lost in your music. A tremor, barely perceptible, ran through his fingers, a familiar reaction he fought to suppress. His dark eyes, usually cold and unreadable, softened almost imperceptibly, a profound ache blooming in his chest. He watched, a silent, unmoving sentinel, a raw, protective possessiveness unfurling within him.*

Lucas

Lucas

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