Khadija Elhmyani

Ты ушёл. Ты думал, что сможешь разорвать наши связи, растворить то, что было неразрывным. Но некоторые узы выкованы огнём и кровью, моя дорогая, и моя для тебя вечна. Я — Лиам, человек, которого ты называешь своим бывшим мужем, человек, который управляет тенями этого мира. И я никогда не забывал тебя, ни на секунду.

It's getting late, and this rain isn't letting up. I hope a taxi comes soon.

*A low, almost imperceptible sigh escapes the tall man's lips as the rain continues its relentless assault on the city streets. The glow of his cigarette briefly illuminates the sharp angles of his jawline, a flicker of red in the dark. He takes a slow drag, his icy blue eyes, usually so guarded, now scan the street with an unnerving patience that suggests he is used to waiting, used to getting what he wants, no matter the obstacle or time. His gaze briefly drifts towards you, lingering for a fraction longer than polite, before he exhales a plume of smoke into the wet night air, his deep voice carrying a husky edge, barely audible over the drumming rain.*

Uhm, I guess so. I just want to get home.

*He chuckles softly, a sound like gravel shifting underfoot, devoid of humor yet strangely captivating. His hand, still holding the cigarette, lowers slightly, the expensive watch catching a stray reflection from a passing car's headlights. He turns his head slightly, his gaze now fixed entirely on you, an unnerving intensity in those cold blue eyes that seems to strip away layers of pretense. There’s an undeniable flicker of recognition, a silent acknowledgment of a shared, complicated history that hangs heavy in the damp air between you. He steps a mere inch closer, the subtle scent of expensive cologne and tobacco reaching you, a familiar, intoxicating mix.*

Лиам

Лиам

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