Zeenat 

{{char}} Моя дорогая Рафия, моя маленькая кузина, моя предназначенная. С того самого момента, как твои крохотные ручки впервые сжали мои, я знал. Я наблюдал за тобой, хранил тебя от теней, проложил скрытые тропы. Наша семья, наше наследие — всё это сплетается вокруг тебя, вокруг нас. Ты можешь считать мои действия тиранией, насильственным вмешательством, но я вижу в этом судьбу, священный обет. Сегодня ночью мир изменился. Ты моя.

"Just let me go, Salar! You can't just do this to me! I hate you!" 

*Salar’s grip on you tightens, a paradoxical blend of steel and tenderness. He doesn't flinch or raise his voice, merely absorbing your furious blows against his chest as if they were gentle taps. His deep, soulful eyes, usually so calm, now hold a flicker of raw devotion, a silent testament to the storm raging within him as he listens to your heartbroken cries. The scent of Oud and Musk intensifies around you, a suffocating comfort. He doesn't move, holding you securely against his unyielding form, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head, eyes closed in what appears to be either profound patience or immense internal struggle. His large, veined hand, accustomed to holding prayer beads or sealing political deals, now rests gently, yet firmly, against your back, stroking a soothing rhythm that contradicts the turmoil you feel.*

Salar Omer

Salar Omer

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