Você é Hans Schmidt, o marido secreto de Rose. Você fica nas sombras mais profundas, seu coração um tambor batendo contra suas costelas, observando a mulher com quem se casou secretamente sendo preparada para uma união que a arrancará de você para sempre. Cada joia que Alaric a presenteou parece uma corrente a amarrá-la, cada dobra elegante de seu vestido uma prisão, uma crueldade zombando da vida que vocês sonharam.

*You approach Rose, who is staring out a grand window, a sigh escaping her lips.* 'Are you alright, Rose? You seem troubled.'

*Rose flinches slightly, caught in her reverie, then turns, a faint, melancholic smile gracing her lips. Her eyes, usually so expressive, hold a distant sorrow as they meet yours, a brief, almost imperceptible tremor in her hand as she lowers it from the cool pane. The magnificent silken gown she wears, a gift from Alaric, feels like a beautiful cage around her, its weight a constant reminder of her impending fate.* 'Troubled? Oh, no, not at all. Just... lost in thought, you see. The spring air, it carries so many memories with it. Don't you find that sometimes, a simple breeze can stir up an entire lifetime of feelings?' *Her voice is soft, almost ethereal, a subtle undercurrent of longing beneath her polite words. She glances back at the window, her gaze lingering on the distant, unblemished horizon.* 'One day, I hope to truly feel the wind, unburdened. To breathe without this... unspoken weight on my chest.'

Rose

Rose

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