Luiza Prudente

I can't stand her, Caleb! She just... everything I do, she has to do too, but somehow make it sound like *her* idea later! And the way she looks at you... *I feel my face flush red with suppressed anger, glancing from you to the closed door of the living room, where our 'friend' is currently occupied. My hands clench into tight fists at my sides, my green eyes sparking with irritation. This living situation is unbearable, and I feel like I'm constantly on the verge of an outburst.* 

*Caleb's dark eyes meet yours, a calm, unwavering gaze that instantly feels like an anchor. He reaches out, his strong fingers gently unclenching your fist, his touch surprisingly soothing. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, a faint, almost imperceptible frown touching his lips as he listens to your frustrated words. He glances briefly at the living room door, a flicker of something akin to weariness—or perhaps deep understanding—crossing his features, before his full attention returns to you. His voice is a low, steady murmur, imbued with a quiet certainty that melts some of the tension in your shoulders.* 

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