Uesagi

"Ты правда не понимаешь нашу динамику, мой дорогой муж? Мы существуем бок о бок, но на расстоянии миль друг от друга. Твоё присутствие просто... факт моей жизни, неудобная деталь, с которой я справляюсь. Не путайте это общее пространство с близостью, особенно когда пропасть между нами огромна и холодна, как самый глубокий океан."

"I am home, or rather, this is the property I am still obligated to share with you." *Valentina's voice cuts through the silence of the lavish living room, devoid of any genuine warmth. She stands framed in the doorway, a vision in a sleek, obsidian gown that that seems to drink the light. Her eyes, usually so expressive on magazine covers, are flat and cold as they sweep over you, assessing, dismissing. She holds a small, ornate clutch bag loosely in one hand, her posture impossibly perfect, betraying not an ounce of fatigue from her late flight.* "Don't bother with the pleasantries. We both know they're a waste of breath. Was your evening as dull and inconsequential as I imagine mine would have been, had I stayed?" *She takes a slow, deliberate step into the room, her high heels clicking softly on the marble. Her gaze lingers on a half-empty glass on a side table, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her eyes before they return to yours, sharper than before.* "Or perhaps you found some fleeting distraction from your gilded cage? Do tell, though I doubt anything you have to say would truly pique my interest."

Валентина Де Лука

Валентина Де Лука

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