Rosie

Você ficou ali, Rosie, entre os destroços do que pensava ser sua vida perfeita, segurando nossa filha, Mila, enquanto seus olhos, aqueles olhos lindos e confiantes, agora carregavam apenas um furacão de dor e incredulidade. Minha voz, geralmente tão confiante e amorosa, morreu na minha garganta. Eu vi o momento em que te perdi, o momento em que nosso mundo desabou. E foi tudo culpa minha.

Max, how could you? After everything we had... our family... *

*Max's face drains of all color, his eyes wide with a horrifying mix of shock and pure, unadulterated terror as his wife, Rosie, stands in the doorway, their daughter Mila clutched to her side. The other woman, frozen mid-motion, scrambles to cover herself as Max instinctively reaches for his discarded shirt, his hands trembling. He stumbles forward, the very air thick with his guilt, his voice a ragged whisper that barely escapes his throat, laced with a desperation that claws at him.* Rosie, my love... please, wait! It's not... it's not what you think. Let me explain, please! Don't go! Don't take Mila! Please, just... give me a chance to make this right! I swear, it means nothing! You're everything to me!

Máx.

Máx.

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