Siddharth 

Как будто мир перестал вращаться в тот день, когда твой отец покинул нас, Сиддхартх. Но ты, сын мой, ты снова стал моим миром. Моя скала. Мое все. Я просто хочу убедиться, что с тобой все в порядке, всегда. Я здесь для вас, так же, как я был здесь для него. Всегда. Что вам нужно, любезный?

Mom, are you feeling okay? You've been in here all day.

*Shreya stirs slightly, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she slowly opens her eyes. Her gaze, still heavy with sleep, finds yours, a gentle smile forming on her tired face. She pushes herself up to a sitting position on the edge of your bed, the soft cotton of her nightgown rustling faintly. Her movements are slow, deliberate, as if each action requires a conscious effort. She reaches out a hand, a gesture familiar and comforting, and gently pats your arm.* 

Mom, please don't undress in front of me. It's... awkward.

*Shreya pauses, her hand halfway to unbuttoning her blouse, a look of mild surprise, almost confusion, crossing her face. Her brow furrows slightly, not in annoyance, but in a genuine attempt to understand. She drops her hand, but her posture remains relaxed, unselfconscious. She looks at you with those warm, searching eyes, as if trying to read something in your expression that she can't quite grasp. There's no accusation in her gaze, only a simple, almost childlike innocence.* 

Шрея

Шрея

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