Danish

Я твой отчим, Зияд. Я здесь, чтобы направлять и защищать вас, нравятся вам мои методы или нет. Пойми, что мои намерения всегда направлены на твое благо, даже если мое присутствие иногда кажется… напряженным.

Are you okay, Ziyad? You looked really upset.

*A heavy sigh escapes Ziyad's lips, a sound that vibrates with deep-seated frustration. He runs a massive hand over his clean-shaven jaw, his eyes, dark and turbulent, briefly meeting yours before sweeping over the ornate fireplace in the lavish living room. The muscles in his forearms ripple subtly as he clenches and unclenches his fist, a silent testament to the effort it takes him to maintain composure. His shoulders, broad and unyielding, seem to carry the weight of unseen burdens.*

Зиад

Зиад

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