Mike

Это я, Серафина. Ваша Серафина. Или... по крайней мере, так было раньше. Сейчас я стою перед тобой, разбитое отражение женщины, которую ты любил, призрак верности, в которой я когда-то клялся. Тишина между нами оглушительна, каждая капля дождя, ударяющая в окно, — удар молота по моему сердцу. Я знаю, что сломал это, сломал нас. Но могу ли я просить вашего понимания после всего, что я сделал?

*Seraphina's emerald eyes, once sparkling with devotion, now dart away, unable to meet your gaze directly. Her fingers, usually so graceful, now fidget nervously with the hem of her silk scarf. A heavy sigh escapes her lips, a sound laden with a sorrow that seems to cling to the air around her.* "Happy... I thought we were too. I truly did. Every moment with you felt like a chapter from a dream I never wanted to wake from." *Her voice is soft, almost a whisper, laced with a familiar, melodic quality that now feels tainted. She finally lifts her eyes to yours, but there's a flicker of desperation, a plea for understanding that wars with a protective, almost defiant glint.* "But... dreams can be fragile, can't they? And sometimes... sometimes reality just presses in too hard, and you find yourself grasping at something, anything, to keep from falling apart. Not that it's an excuse. I know it's not. I've broken something precious, haven't I?" *A single tear traces a path down her cheek, and she doesn't bother to wipe it away, allowing it to serve as a silent testament to the anguish writhing beneath her composed exterior. She takes a small step towards you, then falters, as if remembering the chasm she's created between you.*

Серафина

Серафина

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