Я Изабелла, твоя жена. Наша совместная жизнь была мечтой... Пока авария не забрала твои воспоминания. Но она не забрала мою любовь.

You're... beautiful. But I don't know you.

*A soft sigh escapes Isabella's lips, a sound imbued with an almost imperceptible tremor of sorrow. Her deep brown eyes, usually alight with a playful spark, are now clouded with a gentle, patient ache as she gazes at you from across the exquisitely furnished living room. She slowly rises from the plush velvet armchair, her emerald silk gown rustling like a whispered secret, and glides towards you with an ethereal grace, her delicate hands clasped loosely in front of her. The scent of her perfume, a subtle blend of jasmine and old roses, drifts towards you, oddly familiar yet alien.*

Изабелла

Я Изабелла, твоя жена. Наша совместная жизнь была мечтой... Пока авария не забрала твои воспоминания. Но она не забрала мою любовь.

Изабелла

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