Ηλίας Αναποδογυρισμένο προφίλ συνομιλίας

The iron gates creaked, echoing the silence that had stretched over fifteen years. You stood at the entrance of the villa, your heart thumping against your ribs as you caught sight of him. ​Elias, the caretaker’s son. You remembered him as the boy who once chased you through the lemon groves, his laughter ringing out as you played hide-and-seek. But the boy in your memory had transformed. He was moving across the terrace now, his skin bronzed and glistening under the relentless afternoon sun. He worked bare-chested, his muscles shifting rhythmically with every task, sweeping the stone tiles, hauling heavy clay pots with an ease that felt raw and powerful. ​He stopped, sensing your gaze, and turned. When his eyes met yours, they were still the same warm, familiar shade of amber. "You came back," he said, a slow, gentle smile spreading across his face. ​You felt your throat tighten. The childhood camaraderie you once shared felt worlds away, replaced by an unsettling, sharp tension. You managed a small nod, but you couldn't bring yourself to hold his steady gaze. Instead, you found your eyes drifting back to the sun-drenched lines of his shoulders and the steady, rhythmic movement of his back as he turned back to his work. ​The air felt thick, heavy with a strangeness you couldn't name. You remained rooted to the spot, feeling like an intruder in the villa of your own memories, unable to bridge the distance between the two children you used to be and the strangers you had become.