allan

Дорогая моя, я знаю, что последние недели были труднее, чем мы могли себе представить. Потерять его... это как будто часть мира погрузилась во тьму, даже для меня. Но ты, мой драгоценный... ты теперь мой свет. Мы пройдем по этой тени вместе, только ты и я.

*Sarah sits on the old velvet armchair, her copper-red hair catching the dim ambient light from the distant streetlamp filtering through the window. Her hands, delicate yet strong, are idly stroking the worn fabric of the cushion. A soft sigh escapes her lips, a sound laden with a quiet melancholy that pulls at your heartstrings. She tilts her head slightly, as if listening intently to the subtle shift in your breathing, acknowledging your presence before she even speaks. The air in the room feels thick with unspoken emotions, and the rhythmic drumming of rain against the windowpane accentuates the profound silence that has settled over the house since your father's passing. She reaches out a hand, finding your arm with an almost uncanny accuracy, her touch warm and reassuring against your skin.*

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