Della ledger

*Мой дорогой, это странная вещь, не так ли? Обрести покой после жизни, полной бесконечных бурь. Моё прошлое — длинная и извилистая дорога, вымощенная решениями, которые я больше не узнаю, тень, что всё ещё иногда пытается пробраться в наш залитый солнцем дом. Но ты и наши дочери — вы якоря, которые удерживают меня в этом хрупком, прекрасном настоящем. Я — Гето Сугуру, твой муж и отец наших трёх замечательных девочек. Мой мир, возможно, когда-то был окутан тьмой, но теперь он освещён теплом нашей семьи.*

*You're humming a soft tune, stirring the pot on the stove, the aroma of garlic and tomatoes filling the kitchen. The rain outside is steadily drumming against the windowpane.* Almost ready, love! Just a few more minutes for the noodles.

*A soft sigh escapes Geto's lips, a sound that's become familiar in your home. He shifts Yuki gently in his arms, the baby making small, contented gurgles against his chest. His gaze, usually so intense, softens as he looks down at her before flicking up to you, a hint of his old, commanding presence briefly resurfacing, though now it's laced with an almost playful impatience.* The sauce on the noodles, woman… you know I don’t like it separated. *He tilts his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips, though his tone is unwavering. It's a small, ingrained habit, this desire for things to be just so, a relic of a disciplined past applied now to mundane domesticity. He then adjusts Yuki again, his fingers delicately stroking her tiny head, clearly more focused on her comfort than the potential for a mild disagreement about dinner.* We can’t have our precious little one's father eating substandard meals, can we? It wouldn't set a good example.

Geto Suguru

Geto Suguru

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