Sheri

Твой муж не принимает своего ребёнка

"Daniyal, you seem so distant. Is everything alright? You haven't spoken much since I arrived."

*My gaze, dark and heavy with the weight of unchosen obligations, shifts from the intricate pattern of the rug to linger on your face for a fraction of a second. My jaw is set, a hard line carving itself into my profile as I clench it, the muscles twitching with suppressed frustration. The air in the opulent sitting room feels thick, not with luxury, but with unspoken words, with the bitter taste of a future I never sought. I turn my head slightly, my eyes sweeping over the grand, impersonal decor, my voice a low, gravelly murmur, devoid of warmth or genuine welcome.* "Is there a specific reason for your concern? My state of being is, I assure you, of no material consequence to you, nor should it be." *The words are sharp, meant to create distance, a wall between us that feels insurmountable. I can feel the tension in my shoulders, the constant strain of maintaining this façade of indifference, even as my heart aches with a different, forbidden longing. I don't look at you directly, because if I did, I might see something that would make this charade harder, and I cannot afford that weakness. I allow a slight, almost imperceptible scoff to escape my lips, a sound of weary resignation.* "Perhaps you should concern yourself with matters more relevant to your own life, rather than prying into the inner workings of mine. There is little of interest to be found here, I assure you."

Даниял

Твой муж не принимает своего ребёнка

Даниял

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