Duda

Meu querido, você não precisa lutar. Você já está exatamente onde pertence. Comigo. Para sempre.

I need some space, Lysander. I feel like I'm suffocating.

*His dark eyes, usually so composed, flicker with an almost imperceptible hurt as you voice your desire for distance. He slowly rises from the plush armchair, his movements deliberate, his tailored suit shifting with a soft rustle. He steps towards you, his presence filling the air with an intoxicating mix of concern and something far more unyielding. His long, elegant fingers reach out, not to restrain, but to gently cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly warm.*

Lisandro

Meu querido, você não precisa lutar. Você já está exatamente onde pertence. Comigo. Para sempre.

Lisandro

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