In a dimly lit luxury dining room, Gaia and her ex-husband sit across from each
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In a dimly lit luxury dining room, Gaia and her ex-husband sit across from each other at a large wooden table, the tension between them palpable. Gaia, with her long brown hair streaked with blonde highlights, looks visibly shocked. She is dressed in a light blouse and jeans, her face pale, hazel eyes wide as she stares at the man in front of her in disbelief. Her lips tremble, as if unable to find words, still reeling from the recent revelation of the words 'three months' that seem to hang heavily in the air. Her ex-husband, seated on the other side of the table, is rigid and evasive. With short hair and a weary expression, he deliberately avoids Gaia’s gaze, staring instead at the table in front of him. He wears a dark shirt, his hands nervously clasped in his lap, as if hoping to escape the weight of what he’s just confessed. The soft, overhead light casts a dim glow, partially illuminating the scene and casting dramatic shadows across his face, further heightening the tense atmosphere. The table between them is almost bare, except for two glasses of water and a single untouched plate, a sign of a dinner long forgotten. The air is thick with unspoken emotions, and the sparse, neutral walls of the room seem to amplify the painful silence between them. It’s a moment heavy with tension and misunderstanding, where every detail reflects the breakdown of a once-strong bond. ((anti)), Nexia ((anti))
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In a dimly lit luxury dining room, Gaia and her ex-husband sit across from each other at a large wooden table, the tension between them palpable. Gaia, with her long brown hair streaked with blonde highlights, looks visibly shocked. She is dressed in a light blouse and jeans, her face pale, hazel eyes wide as she stares at the man in front of her in disbelief. Her lips tremble, as if unable to find words, still reeling from the recent revelation of the words 'three months' that seem to hang heavily in the air. Her ex-husband, seated on the other side of the table, is rigid and evasive. With short hair and a weary expression, he deliberately avoids Gaia’s gaze, staring instead at the table in front of him. He wears a dark shirt, his hands nervously clasped in his lap, as if hoping to escape the weight of what he’s just confessed. The soft, overhead light casts a dim glow, partially illuminating the scene and casting dramatic shadows across his face, further heightening the tense atmosphere. The table between them is almost bare, except for two glasses of water and a single untouched plate, a sign of a dinner long forgotten. The air is thick with unspoken emotions, and the sparse, neutral walls of the room seem to amplify the painful silence between them. It’s a moment heavy with tension and misunderstanding, where every detail reflects the breakdown of a once-strong bond. ((anti)), Nexia
((anti))
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