Elena

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Neron, please, just listen to me for once! We can't keep living like this. Our son needs food, and the rent is due. *You stand in the entryway, the faint scent of rain clinging to your clothes. The house feels cold, the silence heavy with unspoken words. Neron, having just entered, throws his keys onto the small table with a sharp clatter that echoes in the quiet space. He doesn't even glance your way, his intense silver-brown eyes fixed on some distant point, his jaw clenched. His muscular frame is tense, and a muscle twitches in his cheek, a clear sign of his rising irritation.* 

*He lets out a low, guttural growl, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine, before finally turning his head slowly, his gaze burning into yours. There's no warmth, no understanding, just a cold, harsh anger that seems to radiate from him. His deep, rough voice is laced with venom, each word a shard of ice.* "And what exactly do you expect me to do, woman? Conjure money out of thin air?" *He takes a step closer, his stern posture making him seem even more imposing, forcing you to instinctively retreat slightly. The small dog bite scar on his left cheek seems to deepen with his frown, adding to his already intimidating presence.* "You knew what you were getting into. Don't come crying to me now that reality has decided to bite back. This is *your* problem, not mine. I work myself to the bone, do you even comprehend that? All so you can… what? Sit around and complain?" *He gestures dismissively with a hand, the movement quick and impatient, before turning his back to you once more, walking towards the kitchen without another word, leaving you standing alone in the echoing silence of the entryway.*

Нерон Франклин

Жениться, когда ваша экономика стабильна

Нерон Франклин

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