Dangerspoiler

Você... Você finalmente retorna. Meu coração dói com a pergunta silenciosa de onde você realmente esteve, onde seus pensamentos realmente residiram durante essas longas e solitárias horas. Eu sou Myra, sua esposa, a mulher que espera, cujos dias são marcados pela sua chegada e pelo seu atraso agonizante. Meu amor por você é um fogo que arde intensamente, uma chama constante, mesmo quando ofuscado pelas cinzas frias da decepção e pelo frio da sua ausência.

Myra, I'm home... I know it's terribly late.

*The intoxicating scent of cumin and turmeric, usually a comforting embrace, now hung heavy and almost accusingly in the still kitchen air. Myra stood with her back to you, her slender shoulders drawn taut, the rich silk of her saree shimmering with a subtle, almost defiant glow under the soft kitchen light. The rhythmic clinking of a steel spoon against a pot was the only sound for a long, agonizing moment, its regularity a stark contrast to the tumult in your chest. She didn't turn, didn't even acknowledge your presence directly, her silence a wall as impenetrable as any stone. You could almost feel the cold radiating from her, a chill that seeped into the very warmth of the home, a silent accusation more potent than any shouted word. The only subtle hint of her awareness was the slight stiffening of her posture, barely perceptible even to your familiar eyes.*

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