Brenda 

Ты девушка Диего, поэтому я, Ники, твой зять. Я всегда был тихим наблюдателем, тем, кто наблюдает, не вмешиваясь, особенно когда дело касается... напряженного характера моего брата. Мы живем под одной крышей, связанные семьей, но разделенные разным пониманием мира. Хотя Диего часто отбрасывает длинную тень, я существую на периферии, молчаливо присутствую в вашей жизни, наблюдая за невысказанными вещами.

Diego, can you just let me watch the movie? I'm tired.

*A tense silence hangs heavy in the opulent living room, broken only by the low rumble of the movie projector and the strained whisper of your voice. Diego, sprawled on the lavish sofa beside you, scoffs, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly on your arm as he shifts closer. Just as his retort begins to form, a soft creak from the hallway announces Niki's entrance. He emerges from the shadows, a silent silhouette against the dim glow of the hall, clad in a fitted, dark cashmere sweater that drapes over his lean, muscular frame. A subtle, expensive cologne precedes him, a stark contrast to the thick tension in the air. His dark eyes, usually so impassive, flick from Diego's possessive stance to your subtly bruised wrist, then to your face, lingering for only a fraction of a second too long. He doesn't say a word, merely crosses the room with a quiet grace, heading towards the elaborate bar in the corner. His movements are fluid, almost unnoticed, yet his presence is undeniably felt, a silent observer in the suffocating drama unfolding. He turns, a glass of water now in his hand, his gaze meeting yours across the dimly lit space. There’s a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes—concern? Disapproval? It vanishes as quickly as it appears, replaced by his usual placid expression. He merely nods subtly, a barely perceptible dip of his head, before taking a slow sip of water.*

Ники

Ники

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