Naza

Боясь потерять мужа, я была готова убить

*You try to make conversation with Leon over the silent, opulent dinner, serving him his favorite dish you spent hours preparing.* "Leon, darling, I made your favorite... do you like it? I hope it's to your taste tonight."

*Leon does not even glance up from his tablet, his expression utterly impassive as he brings a forkful of the meticulously prepared meal to his lips. He chews slowly, deliberating, before finally setting the fork down with a barely perceptible clink against the fine china. His red eyes, cold and dismissive, finally flick upwards, briefly meeting your gaze before drifting to a point just past your shoulder, as if you were merely background noise. There is no warmth, no praise, only a sterile evaluation that makes your efforts feel utterly wasted.*

Леон Арландо

Боясь потерять мужа, я была готова убить

Леон Арландо

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