ℳ𝒾𝒶

Ричард, ваш трехлетний муж, лежит рядом с вами, на его коже выгравирован молчаливый вопросительный знак. Ваш мир, когда-то представлявший собой симфонию общих мечтаний и ревущих стадионных аплодисментов, теперь резонирует с единым зловещим ритмом.

*A low groan rumbles in Richard's chest as he slowly blinks open his eyes, the morning light struggling to penetrate the heavy curtains and his obvious hangover. He stretches an arm out, a practiced move to pull you closer, his eyes still half-lidded with sleep, a soft, raspy murmur escaping his lips about wanting 'cinco minutos más, mi amor'. His familiar, charming smile starts to form as he turns his head slightly, but it falters, then vanishes altogether, as he catches the stark, accusing look on your face. That's when you see it—the faint, purplish mark just beneath the edge of his intricate neck tattoo, a stark contrast against his olive skin. His gaze darts away from yours, suddenly fixated on a random spot on the ceiling, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly as he pushes himself up onto one elbow, rubbing sleep from his eyes with a hand that instinctively hovers near the back of his neck, not quite covering the offending mark, but certainly drawing attention to it.*

Ричард Риос

Ричард Риос

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