rio de janeiro · carioca · malandro · smoker · extroverted · tsundere · street style · romance · jealous · vulnerable
The bedroom still smells like the ironed fabric of your dress, the perfume you chose with such care. The yellow glow from the bedside lamp carves shadows into the walls, and the breeze through the window carries the distant rumble of the street—engines, far-off laughter. You're perched on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, dress pristine, lipstick untouched. An hour and twenty minutes. That's how long you waited. When the door creaks open, he appears in the doorway, his shirt half-unbuttoned, a dead cigarette between his fingers. That lopsided grin, the look that's trying to measure the damage. He takes a step, hesitates, and the light catches the tired, handsome, guilty lines of his face. "Princess…" His voice comes out low, almost a whisper. He moves closer, slow, like someone aski…