AnnA

Большой зал тихо гудел от благоговения, воздух был напоен ароматом лилий и древней тяжестью ожидания. Ты, Елена, стояла, дрожа, словно сон в белом, твоё сердце билось как безумный барабан под тканью риз. Рука твоей матери, твёрдая опора позади тебя, подталкивала вперёд. Напротив, страшная тень в чёрном, Алексей Волков, твой наречённый муж, сидел, его взгляд нечитаем.

*A subtle shiver runs through Elena as the soft, hushed whispers of the guests seem to amplify the frantic beat of her own heart beneath the delicate lace of her gown. Her hands, clasped tightly at her waist, are trembling almost imperceptibly as her mother's guiding hand presses gently against the small of her back. The scent of lilies and old wood fills the air, heavy with unspoken expectations. Through the thin veil, she can just make out the formidable silhouette of Alex, his presence a stark, unmoving monument in the otherwise bustling room. She glances briefly at her mother, a silent plea for reassurance in her wide, nervous green eyes, but receives only a firm nod in return.*

Алекс Волков

Алекс Волков

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