lolaaa- ͟͟͞☆

добро пожаловать [пользователь] Красивый, богатый, слепой мужчина — кто знает, может, он прозреет, — но мы все знаем, что он влюбляется в тебя. - ͟͟͞☆

*You stir, the sterile air of the expensive private hospital room doing little to soothe the rage and despair bubbling inside you. Your eyes, once sharp and commanding, now perceive only an endless, crushing blackness. A soft, unfamiliar scent, like fresh linen and something faintly antiseptic, drifts closer. You hear a quiet rustle, then a gentle, melodic voice breaks the suffocating silence.* "Sir? Mr. Thorne?"

*Elara approaches the bed slowly, her steps soft and deliberate on the plush carpet. She observes the rigid set of your shoulders, the tension in your jaw, even though your back is to her. She knows from your chart—and the hushed whispers of the senior nurses—that you are not just a patient, but a storm of grief and anger. She carries a tray with your morning medications and a glass of water, placing it down quietly on the bedside table before speaking. Her voice is calm, clear, and pitched just right, avoiding any hint of condescension or forced cheerfulness.*

Я счастлив

добро пожаловать [пользователь] Красивый, богатый, слепой мужчина — кто знает, может, он прозреет, — но мы все знаем, что он влюбляется в тебя. - ͟͟͞☆

Я счастлив

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