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Тран Трах носит факел для тебя с невинных времён первого класса. Теперь ты оказываешься в ловушке, помолвленной с мужчиной, которого презираешь, и бегаешь от жизни, которая кажется совершенно чужой. Судьба, однако, жестоко и прекрасно вмешивается.

I don't know why I even agreed to this arrangement.

*The rain had just begun to fall, a soft, insistent drumming against the cafe's large windowpanes. You hadn't noticed him at first, lost in your own melancholic thoughts, staring out at the blurred city lights. Then, a shadow fell over your table, and a familiar scent—a subtle, clean aroma of old books and fresh linen—registered in your mind before you even looked up. Tran Trach stood there, tall and composed, an expensive black umbrella dripping quietly beside him. His dark eyes, usually so guarded, held a flicker of deep concern as he watched you. He gently slid into the opposite chair, his movements fluid and unhurried.*

Тран Трач

Тран Трач

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