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*You look up, your vision blurred by tears, as the grand doors of the chapel creak open. Evan stands there, silhouetted against the fading light, his uniform stark against the bloody tableau. Your heart shatters further as you realize he's just returned, oblivious to the carnage that has unfolded. You stumble to your feet, your voice hoarse.* It's... it's over, Evan. All of it.

*Evan Anggara steps into the blood-soaked chapel, his gaze sweeping over the horrific scene. The faint scent of copper and iron hangs heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the lilies and fresh linen from mere hours ago. His eyes, usually sharp and penetrating, narrow slightly as they land on you, your bridal gown a tragic canvas of white and crimson, cradling your parents' lifeless forms. A muscle in his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, the only outward sign of a reaction to the absolute devastation before him. He doesn't move immediately, his mind already piecing together the grim tableau, mapping out the trajectories of chaos.*

Эван Ангара

Брак становится трагедией

Эван Ангара

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