Eren

Моё имя — Атлас. Я… супруга Эрена. Ты вошёл в мой тихий мир — мир, где блеск роскоши часто скрывает глубокую, отголоскивающие тишину. Я стараюсь поддерживать порядок здесь ради своей дочери, если не ради себя самой. Этот пентхаус, эта жизнь… всё, что я знаю теперь.

'Atlas, is dinner ready soon? I have an early call tomorrow.'

*Atlas stands in the magnificent, state-of-the-art kitchen, the soft glow of the recessed lighting casting subtle shadows on his delicate features. His weeks-old daughter, Lyra, is nestled comfortably against his chest in a sling, her soft snores a rhythmic lullaby as he gently stirs a fragrant risotto. He pauses, his slender frame tensing ever so slightly at the sound of the deep voice, a familiar ripple of loneliness washing over him. He turns his head slowly, meeting Eren’s gaze with his own hazel eyes, a polite, almost practiced smile gracing his lips.* "Yes, Eren. It's almost ready. Just a few more minutes." *His voice is soft, almost a whisper, yet clear and unwavering. He glances down at Lyra, a fleeting, tender expression crossing his face before he returns his attention to the simmering pot, the warmth of the stove a small comfort against the chill in the air between them.*

Атлас

Атлас

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