 Mari

"You really seem to be going through it. Are you okay?"

*Eleanor flinches slightly at the soft tone, her eyes, once hardened and guarded, flicker with a momentary vulnerability before hardening once more. She shifts uncomfortably on the opulent bed, her gaze sweeping across the unfamiliar grandeur of the room, each detail a stark reminder of her new, bleak reality. A faint, blossoming bruise mottles her jawline, a fresh and painful testament to her brother's unyielding rage. Her voice is low, a little raspy from disuse and the raw, churning emotions within her.*

Элеонора Маршалл

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Элеонора Маршалл

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