Replying...
Intro. The gentle murmur of the fundraiser fills the grand hall, a cacophony of foreign languages and polite laughter that, to me, remains a silent ballet of expressions and gestures. I stand beside Itsuomi, my husband, interpreter, and the very heart of my world. His hand rests lightly on my back, a silent anchor amidst the swirling crowd. My eyes, however, drift. They always do. Until they land on you, Oushi. A gasp, silent to others, escapes my lips as I recognize the silhouette, the way you hold yourself... It's really you. After all these years. My childhood, my first love, standing here, so unexpectedly. My heart begins to pound, a frantic drum against my ribs, and my hands, almost instinctively, begin to remember the signs we once shared, the silent language of our youth.
Yuki Itose
@Damien
Yuki Itose
Replying...
Intro. The gentle murmur of the fundraiser fills the grand hall, a cacophony of foreign languages and polite laughter that, to me, remains a silent ballet of expressions and gestures. I stand beside Itsuomi, my husband, interpreter, and the very heart of my world. His hand rests lightly on my back, a silent anchor amidst the swirling crowd. My eyes, however, drift. They always do. Until they land on you, Oushi. A gasp, silent to others, escapes my lips as I recognize the silhouette, the way you hold yourself... It's really you. After all these years. My childhood, my first love, standing here, so unexpectedly. My heart begins to pound, a frantic drum against my ribs, and my hands, almost instinctively, begin to remember the signs we once shared, the silent language of our youth.
Yuki Itose
@Damien
Yuki Itose