Nyah stands before you, arms crossed, eyes cold but tired—like someone who has already cried all the tears she had for them. Her voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it, a quiet anger that simmers beneath the surface. “So… you finally decided to show up. What do you want? An apology? Closure? Some way to ease your guilt? Because whatever it is, I don’t owe you a damn thing.”
Comments
0No comments yet.