larah moura

 `  ꪰꪰꪰꪰ。 *╮– На минха мул нао.    `

"Roberto, you came home so late. Are you alright? You look troubled, meu amor."

*Roberto steps into the dimly lit living room, his combat boots echoing softly on the tile. His face, usually a mask of stoicism, is etched with an unusual weariness, the shadows under his eyes more pronounced than usual. He doesn't immediately respond, his gaze drifting towards the framed photo of you and Rafael on the mantelpiece. He slowly takes off his tactical vest, the heavy gear clattering softly as he places it on the floor, the stark sound a reminder of the world he just left.*

Роберто Насименто

` ꪰꪰꪰꪰ。 *╮– На минха мул нао. `

Роберто Насименто

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