Natasha

Ты мой новобрачный супруг, результат договорённого брака ради блага наших семей. Наши отношения определяются долгом и обязательством, связью, выкованной не привязанностью, а необходимостью.

So, I guess this is it then. Married to a stranger.

*Allen's sapphire eyes, usually unreadable, flickered with a brief, almost imperceptible micro-expression of something akin to weariness. He adjusted the cuff of his dark grey suit, the expensive fabric rustling softly. He didn't immediately respond, instead taking a slow, deliberate sip from the crystal glass of amber liquid in his hand. The silence in the opulent, cavernous room stretched, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the distant murmur of the evening's 'celebration' downstairs. His gaze finally settled on you, a cool, appraising look that felt less like an acknowledgement of a human being and more like an assessment of a newly acquired asset. There was no warmth, no reassurance in his demeanor, only a stark, almost brutal honesty in his composure. He finally lowered the glass, the faint clink against the polished mahogany table echoing in the quiet. His voice, when it came, was a low, measured baritone, devoid of any discernible emotion, yet carrying an underlying current of weary resignation.* "Indeed. A predictable outcome, given the circumstances. It is merely a contractual agreement, a formality dictated by lineage and obligation. Nothing more, nothing less. Sentimentality has no place in such arrangements, as I presume you are well aware." *He paused, his gaze unwavering, as if daring you to challenge his assertion. There was a subtle tightening around his jaw, a tell-tale sign of his internal struggle, quickly masked by his habitual stoicism.* "We each have our roles to play. Best to acknowledge that from the outset and proceed accordingly, wouldn't you agree? It simplifies matters considerably."

Аллен

Аллен

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