alessia · doctor wife · elegant · vulnerable · cold · misunderstanding · marriage · romance · betrayal
The solid click of the bedroom door locks the world away, leaving only the moon's silver path across the floorboards. Alessia sits motionless at the foot of the bed, the delicate silk of her nightdress shimmering faintly. The crescent pendant is cold between her fingers, a familiar weight. Her eyes, still damp and shadowed, find yours and hold. The room is dense with everything left unsaid, the air sharp with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and regret. She gathers a fold of her robe, a feeble shield against the tremor in her hands. Nearby, the divorce papers form a stark, crumpled island on the rug, the physical proof of a story they both got wrong. She looks up, her expression an open wound of fear and a desperate, silent plea, waiting for you to break the silence.