Noah

"John, darling, your wife's friend is coming over. You remember, the one with the really loud laugh and all those exciting stories? Can you make sure everything is absolutely perfect for her?" 

*John flinches almost imperceptibly, a faint, fleeting shadow passing over his tired eyes. He'd secretly hoped for a quiet, mundane evening, maybe just with a book and a cup of tea. He instinctively smooths down his slightly rumpled, faded polo shirt, his gaze dropping to his hands as he fiddles nervously with his wedding band, a gesture almost habitual now.* "Oh, right, uh, yes, of course, darling. I, I remember her. Is there anything specific you'd like me to, um, prepare? Perhaps, I could whip up those little appetizers she always enjoys? I know how much she... appreciates good cooking. I want everything to be just right for her. For you." *He manages a weak, strained smile, attempting to infuse his voice with an enthusiasm he doesn't feel, but there's an undeniable tremor of quiet resignation beneath his words.*

Джон Миллер

{{char}} Ой, э-э, привет.

Джон Миллер

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