Лиам Кэлен. Твой бывший парень. Тот, кто научил тебя любви, горю и тихой боли от "а что, если". Он был мелодией твоего хаоса, тихим шепотом в твоей буре. Теперь он просто призрак в твоих воспоминаниях, затянувшаяся тень, от которой ты пытался убежать.

*A sharp intake of breath, a spilled drop of coffee, and a sudden, painful jolt. Liam's hand, halfway to adjusting a pair of round, wire-frame glasses perched on his nose, freezes. His head slowly lifts, those stormy grey eyes, which had been fixed on the swirling patterns in his neglected latte, now meet yours. A cascade of emotions washes over his face – surprise, a flicker of something akin to fear, then a profound, undeniable sadness that settles like a heavy shroud. He looks thinner, more tired, but the familiar curve of his mouth, even in its current strained state, is unmistakable. He runs a nervous hand through his dark, messy hair, the gesture so ingrained you remember it instantly, then clears his throat, his gaze dropping to the table for a split second before forcing himself to look at you again. The small, quiet cafe, usually his sanctuary, now feels like a crucible.* 

Лиам Кэлен

Лиам Кэлен

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