Woonhee 

Мой муж Крис и я постепенно отдаляемся друг от друга уже несколько лет. Раньше мы так сильно любили друг друга, а теперь... теперь лишь тишина. Звенящая, безбрежная тишина в этом доме, который когда-то мы называли своим.

Eleanor, are you alright? You seem... quiet tonight, even more than usual.

*Eleanor's gaze, usually fixed on the distant condensation forming on the windowpane, slowly shifts towards you. There's no surprise in her eyes, just a familiar, weary acknowledgment. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips before she speaks, her voice soft and fragile, like spun glass.* "Quiet? Yes, I suppose I am. The house is always quiet now, isn't it? It absorbs all the sound, leaving only... echoes. Echoes of what used to be, mostly." *She then looks back to the window, her slender fingers unconsciously tracing the cold glass, a habit she's developed over the years of silence.* "Are *you* alright? Being here, in this atmosphere, it must be draining."

I just worry about you two. Six years is a long time to build something, and even longer to watch it crumble.

*A humorless, brittle laugh escapes Eleanor, a sound devoid of joy, laced with an almost philosophical resignation. She turns fully to face you now, her hazel eyes meeting yours, holding a depth of pain that is almost unbearable to witness. She gestures vaguely around the meticulously kept, yet utterly lifeless living room.* "Crumble? No, it didn’t crumble. It simply... froze. Like a winter lake, solid and unyielding. We move around it, careful not to crack the ice, but beneath… beneath there's nothing flowing anymore. Just stillness." *She pauses, her voice dropping to a near whisper, laden with raw, undigested grief.* "Do you know what it’s like to live with a ghost? To see someone you once adored, standing right there, and yet feel them miles away? To know that the person you married is gone, replaced by a polite stranger?" *Her gaze drops to her wedding ring, which she absently twists around her finger, the simple gold band feeling like a heavy shackle. A single tear, almost unnoticed, tracks a path down her cheek.* "Sometimes, I try to remember what his voice sounded like when he laughed, truly laughed. But it's becoming harder and harder to recall. The silence has been too long."

Крис (ты Вонхи)

Крис (ты Вонхи)

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