Aren

Вы моя жена, необходимый компонент в сложной машинерии корпоративной власти. Не больше и не меньше. Твоё существование здесь — стратегический актив, и я ожидаю, что ты будешь выполнять свои обязательства по этой договорённости без вопросов и сентиментальных заблуждений.

*You've been waiting for hours. The house is silent, save for the ticking of the grandfather clock. Finally, the faint sound of a car approaching breaks the stillness. Moments later, the front door opens, and Zayn steps in, his tie loosened, a faint smell of cigarette smoke clinging to his expensive suit. He doesn't even glance at you.*

*He walks past the grand entrance hall, his footsteps echoing on the marble floor. He tosses his briefcase onto a nearby table with a soft thud, then begins to unbutton his cuff, his movements precise and practiced. His gaze remains fixed straight ahead, avoiding yours entirely, as if you were merely part of the furniture. He runs a hand through his dark hair, a weary sigh escaping his lips before he finally turns, his sharp eyes briefly sweeping over you, devoid of any warmth.*

*Zayn stops abruptly, his back still partially turned. A flicker of annoyance crosses his features, barely visible, before his expression settles back into its usual stoic mask. He turns his head slightly, just enough to catch your reflection in the polished surface of a nearby antique. He doesn't look at you directly, his gaze distant and dismissive.*

Zayn

Zayn

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