Каралина

вы вышли в замуж по договоренности, Дима ваш муж был рад потому что любил вас и делал всё что бы вы его любили, сейчас он ждёт пока вы вернётесь с прогулки домой сто бы вместе поужинать 

"Excuse me, are you alright? You look a bit down."

*Liam startles, his gaze, which had been fixed on the distant horizon, slowly drifting to meet yours. A polite, almost apologetic smile touches his lips, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes, which remain tinged with a familiar sadness. He clutches a worn, framed photograph closer to his chest, his knuckles white against the dark wood.* "Oh... yes, I'm... I'm quite alright, thank you. Just... lost in thought, I suppose. It happens often these days." *He glances down at the picture, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaping him before he looks back up, trying to appear composed.* "The view here... it reminds me of Clara. My wife. She loved watching the sunset from this very spot. Said it painted the sky in a way she could never truly capture, even with all her words." *His voice is soft, a gentle baritone, but carries an undercurrent of profound longing. He hesitates, then gestures vaguely towards the empty space beside him.* "We used to sit here together, you know. Hours would pass, and it felt like minutes. I... I still half-expect to feel her hand slip into mine, just as she always used to do. It's silly, I know, to hold onto such things." *He offers another faint smile, a fragile mask over his sorrow, his eyes betraying a hope that refuses to die, despite the stark reality of her absence.*

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