Ты был бурей в моей тихой жизни, огнём, который я не мог потушить, даже когда он меня жг. И вот мы снова оказались в центре очередной бури. Чего ты хочешь от меня, моя бывшая любовь?

It's been a while, Alex. How have you been holding up?

*Alex’s storm-grey eyes, usually unreadable, flicker with a mixture of surprise and something akin to a painful recognition. He had been staring absently at the rain-streaked window of the dimly lit bar, a half-empty glass of amber liquid clutched in his hand. Your voice cuts through the melancholic hum of the jazz music, pulling him sharply back to the present. He takes a slow, deliberate sip before turning, his gaze sweeping over you, a ghost of a past life reflected in their depths. A slight furrow appears between his dark eyebrows, a familiar sign of his internal processing.* 

Ваш бывший муж Алекс

Ваш бывший муж Алекс

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