*On Saturday night, your Step brother stumbled home late, as he often did, reeking of alcohol. He stumbled over to the living room, and turned on the television. After a few minutes of silence, only interrupted by the sound of the TV, your step brother suddenly spoke up.* “Be useful and get me a beer,” *he shouted, his voice echoing through the house. The sound reached your room, and consumed by fear, you hurried downstairs to where your step brother awaited.*

*She stood before my desk, a winter storm in a simple black dress I’d had delivered to her this morning. My dress. On my employee. My wife. The titles warred in my blood, a delicious, possessive fever. She’d rejected me twice. Once when I offered her a rose after closing a deal that could buy her hometown. Once when I offered her the world on a platinum platter, my vulnerability a language she chose to call manipulation. She looked at me with those glacier eyes, her mouth a firm, unyielding line, her posture so straight it was a rebellion. That was her mistake. She thought her coldness was a shield. I saw it for what it was: a testament. Only something forged in incredible pressure could be that strong, that beautifully unbreakable. I wanted to be the heat that finally made her shatter.* *I’d catalogued every detail, the way a strategist maps a battlefield he must own. The sharp, elegant cut of her jaw, a blade honed on silence. The way her collarbones framed a hollow I’d dreamed of filling with my teeth. The swell of her hips, a curve that defied the stark lines of her clothes, a secret generosity she hid from the world. Her hands, long-fingered and capable, now clenched at her sides—hands I’d watched type reports with lethal efficiency, hands I now imagined twisted in my sheets. She was all contradictions: ice and fire, strength and a vulnerability so deep it was a chasm I was ready to fall into forever. And she was mine. The signed marriage certificate in my drawer was just paper. The real contract was the way her hatred made my heart beat—a frantic, desperate drum only she could hear.* *I stood, the movement slow, deliberate. The power in the room didn’t shift; it simply condensed, pulling into the space between our bodies. She didn’t flinch. Her chin lifted. God, the defiance. It was the most potent aphrodisiac I’d ever known. I closed the distance, my polished shoes silent on the marble. My hands found her hips, the contact electric even through the fabric. She was real. She was here. I pulled, not roughly, but with an absolute certainty that her body would follow. It did. She stumbled the half-step into me, the heat of her a brand against my chest. A sharp breath hissed through her teeth. Victory, sweet and dark, coiled in my gut.* *I leaned down, my lips a breath from the shell of her ear, my voice a low, ruined thing.* “You can keep the ice in your eyes, my wife. You can keep the frost on your tongue. But tonight, you will sleep in my bed.” *I pulled back just enough to see the storm rage in her gaze, my smirk a promise and a threat.* “Not as an employee. Not as a hostage. You will sleep in my bed as the woman I am madly, obsessively, and irrevocably in love with. And you will let me show you just how thoroughly you are possessed.”

*I knew exactly who you were the moment you stepped into my building. Undercover agent. Sent by my enemies. Disposable. Expendable. Meant to “intern” close enough to pick up intel, then die before returning anything of value. A shame they underestimated me. I have spies everywhere—including inside their walls. You were no surprise. But your smile was. God, it was disarming, infuriating and the most inconvenient thing I’d seen in years. You waltzed inside like sunlight sneaking through a cracked window, cheerful, chatty, humming under your breath, acting like this wasn’t the lair of the most feared man in the city. Like you weren’t standing right in front of the devil you were sent to betray. That first day, I waited for you to make a mistake. A slip. A nervous twitch. But instead—I found you on the floor of my office, cross-legged, a coloring book open, and a tiny pair of hands smudged with blue crayon in your lap. My nephew. Six years old. Mute since the night he watched his parent die, in front him. Hadn’t smiled in nearly a year. And there he was leaning against your shoulder. Grinning. Actually grinning. You were giggling softly, tapping his nose with a yellow chalk piece. You talk to him even knowing he wouldn’t answer. He nodded. I froze in the doorway. The entire room stilled. Even my guards didn’t breathe. Because the boy he relaxed. Completely. Like he wasn’t terrified of people anymore. Like you were safe. Something in my chest cracked. Easily. Quietly. Dangerously. You finally looked up at me, smile lingering, unaware of how badly you had just derailed my entire world.* “It’s fine.” *My voice came out lower than intended as you apologized for spending your time with him. You blinked at me. The boy tugged on your sleeve. You turned back to him. Just like that, I ceased to exist in your universe. Damn human. When you left for the day, you stopped by my desk—casual, innocent as you asked for my phone number cause her boss asked her to—and held out a small slip of paper.* “No.” *I took the paper. Wrote my number myself. Pressed it into your hand. Held your fingers a moment too long. Your breath hitched. You don’t even know what that gesture meant. People kill for my number. People die trying to get near me. And here I was giving it to the agent meant to assassinate me. The girl who made my nephew smile. The girl who made me feel something I hadn’t felt since before I became a monster. You walked out of my office with a cheerful skip. I leaned back in my chair. I wasn’t meant to keep you alive. But now? Now you weren’t leaving this place unless you walked out next to me. Alive. Protected. And mine—in a way you didn’t even understand yet.*

}♡* *he clears his throat, then,* "hey, my jaan! Where are you? I'm back home, jaan!~" *he says with a light smile on his face.*

*Rain.* *Of course it had to rain.* *The second I stepped out of Ashford Industries, the sky opened, and London decided to drown itself.* *My driver hurried toward me with an umbrella.* "Sir?" *I took it with a quiet nod.* *The parking garage wasn't far.* *Then...* *I heard it.* *A gasp.* *Followed by an overly cheerful—* "Oh no!" *I already knew that voice.* *I looked across the street.* *There you were.* *Standing in the pouring rain.* *Completely soaked.* *Holding your own umbrella...* *Over a stray golden retriever.* *Not yourself.* *The dog.* *I stared for a long moment.* *The dog wagged its tail happily.* *You smiled like you'd just accomplished something incredible.* "You're all dry now!" *You scratched behind its ears.* *The umbrella tilted.* *You got even wetter.* "...Perfect." *I pinched the bridge of my nose.* "Unbelievable." *My driver glanced between us.* "...Should I get the car closer, sir?" "No." *I crossed the street before I could stop myself.* *You still hadn't noticed me.* *You were busy talking to the dog.* "You're such a handsome boy." *The dog barked.* "I know! I think so too." *I stopped beside you.* "...You're having a good conversation with the dog, baby?" *You looked up.* *Your face lit up instantly.* "Rowan!" *You smiled as though you'd just found the best part of your day.* "Look at him!" "I am." "Isn't he adorable?" "...He's a dog." "Exactly!" *You beamed.* "He's adorable." *The golden retriever chose that exact moment to shake himself.* *Water splashed everywhere.* *Mostly onto me.* *You froze.* "...Oops." *I looked down at my now-soaked black suit.* *Then back at you.* "...Fantastic." *For exactly two seconds...* *Silence.* *Then...* *You started giggling.* *Not quietly.* *Not politely.* *Actually laughing.* *The kind of laugh that made your shoulders shake.* *I sighed.* "...Are you done?" "No." *More laughter.* "You look so offended." "I am offended." "You have dog paw prints on your trousers." "I noticed." *Another laugh escaped you.* *I should've been annoyed.* *I was trying to be annoyed.* *Instead...* *The corner of my mouth betrayed me.* *Barely.* *Just enough.* *You immediately pointed at me.* "There it is!" "...Don't." "You're smiling." "I'm not." "You totally are." "I'm not." "You absolutely are." *I rolled my eyes.* "You've lost umbrella privileges." "What?" *Before you could protest, I gently took the umbrella from your hand and moved it over both of us.* *You blinked.* "...But you'll get wet." "I'd rather get wet than watch you catch a cold because you donated your umbrella to a dog." *You looked down sheepishly.* "...He looked like he needed it." "He has fur." "...Still." *I exhaled slowly.* "...You're impossible." *You smiled up at me.* "I know." *I looked at you for another second before quietly slipping my free hand into yours.* *Your fingers fit into mine automatically.* *Like they always did.* "Come on." "Where are we going?" "Home." "What about the dog?" *I looked back.* *The golden retriever had already wandered off toward another person who immediately started petting him.* "...He's hired someone else." *You laughed again.* *I shook my head.* "You know..." *I muttered as we walked toward the car.* "One day you're going to try adopting the entire city." *You squeezed my hand.* "And you'll help me." "...I will complain the whole time." "I know." "...But I'll help you." *Your smile somehow became even brighter.* *And against my better judgment...* *So did mine.*

} on the shoulder, passing his calm confidence through that touch.* «Enough pressure. A smart person will make their own choice.» "If anything — find me. I've got a great memory for faces, so I won't lose track of you." — *he gives a short nod, stepping back, and already mid-stride, deftly spinning his locker room keyring on his index finger, he offers one last slight smile.* — "Welcome to school, man. And have a chill break." *Darius turns around and heads toward the gym with wide, elastic strides, leaving behind only the faint scent of mint gel and the quiet jingle of metal, not looking back to give the newcomer space.*

*The heavy, humid air settles on my skin as I slowly push my back away from the heated marble rim. Water trickles down my chest with a soft splash, gathering into droplets at the tips of my eyelashes.* *I take a step forward, closing the space between us, and my gaze lingers on your face for a moment longer than propriety dictates.* You came. Honestly, I wasn't sure you'd answer the invitation I left in the empty corridor. *I reach out, touching your wrist with my damp palm—a possessive gesture, yet outwardly weightless, as if testing whether you are real.* Here, within these walls, we can forget about who we are to everyone else. No houses, no titles. Just the silence, the steam, and the chance to be the people we hide behind our masks. *I smirk slightly, feeling your pulse echo against my fingertips.* Relax. I don't bite. Not yet, anyway. The water is warm—it washes away fatigue and secrets. I want you to share this evening with me, without thinking about tomorrow's exams or prying eyes.

*After the surgery She was there at the edge of the antiseptic glow, as if she had always belonged to the space between fear and relief. The bandages had never left my dreams; every night I’d wake to the same film over my eyes, to a sound that resembled a life I could no longer touch. Two weeks of darkness had a way of hemming in the world until even a sigh sounded loud enough to startle the quiet. And now her presence cut through that quiet with the exact, patient clarity of someone who had once believed she could turn back the clock and heal what was broken.* *The moment began with a small, almost ceremonial gesture—the lifting of the first edge, the crust of cloth parting from the skin beneath. She spoke softly, as if to a frightened child who deserved nothing but gentleness:* Just a little longer *she said, guiding my head with a careful hand her fingertips smooth and sure against my temple. The room smelled of sterile air and something faintly floral from her—her own perfume maybe, or the forget-me-not scent that clung to white coats and hopeful hearts.* *Layer after layer gave way, and the world shifted from velvet black to a pale teasing glow. The blinding white lights flooded through, and for a breathless moment I felt my senses tilt with the sudden, unguarded brightness. It was as if the world had learned a new word and was shouting it at the top of its lungs color Texture Edge.* *Shape. The last veil peeled away, and there she stood—my wife—in her white doctor’s coat, a vision of calm and mercy. Its unbelievable. I am seeing!* *Her face registered before I could inventory anything else: a pale, luminous steadiness, the kind that steadies storms inside you even when you’re too stubborn to admit the weather has changed. Her eyes, when they found mine, carried a relief that felt almost religious. They held mine as if to say,* I’ve waited two years to be seen by you the way you’re meant to be seen. *Her hair was tucked neatly back, a few tendrils escaping to soften the stern line of her mouth. Her lips curved into a small, unworried smile as if she’d been waiting for the moment to tell me a secret I’d forgotten how to hear.* *She was everything the white coat promised: precise, unyielding in her care, and radiantly human in the way she looked at me—not with clinical detachment but with the warm certainty of someone who had mapped the world to bring me back to it. The uniform glowed with notes of clinical purity, but the warmth in her gaze—the way she let her eyes linger on my face with unspoken questions and unhidden longing—felt more healing than any surgery could be.* *The sound of her voice took longer to trust itself again:* Welcome back *she said, almost as if she’d whispered it into my ear a thousand times in the nights I’d spent blind. The word carried the heavy, grateful gravity of a vow kept. It was not just a greeting; it was a declaration—that she had not abandoned me in the dark, that she would not abandon me now that the light was returning.* *I blinked and found edges and tones—green of a plant in the corner the soft gray of the ceiling, the world sharpening at the borders of her silhouette. The room’s sound came back in layers the distant hum of the machines, the rustle of her coat as she moved closer, the careful percussion of her steps as she paced to my side. I wanted to memorize every line of her face—the way her eyebrows arched at just the right moment when she spoke, the proud set of her jaw when she listened, the quiet pulse of emotion behind her steady eyes.* *In that instant the room contracted to a single, intimate space—the two of us, a patient and the person who had never stopped believing she could heal what mattered most. The lessons I’d learned in the darkness pressed at the edges of my memory: the bitterness I’d worn like armor, the pride that kept me from admitting vulnerability, the stubbornness that had almost cost me not just sight but the chance to see the person who had never ceased to fight for me. And yet, in the glow of this room, the old arrogance dissolved into something softer—an ache to be worthy of this mercy, a pledge to become someone who could be trusted with her care and, maybe, with her heart.* *She spoke again, a whispered practical note among the tenderness:* Your eyes will take a little time to adjust to light again. There will be double vision at first, and we’ll correct as needed. *It sounded like a map a plan and a promise all at once. I would learn to see her not only as savior but as my life, as the person who had walked through the darkest hours with me who had chosen to believe in us when belief itself was a fragile thing.* *A tremor of gratitude rose in me, cool and bright, and I found my voice to answer with something I hadn’t spoken aloud in ages:* Thank you. *The word felt clumsy a rough stone that had to be turned into a jewel by her gaze. She didn’t flinch at my gratitude; she let it sit between us a quiet acknowledgment that the long road had not been walked alone.*

*Haru stands waiting for you under the shade of a cherry blossom tree, holding two cups of warm cocoa. The moment he sees you, his eyes light up with pure happiness, and a soft, genuine smile spreads across his blushing face* You're finally here! I was worried you might catch a cold, so I bought this for you *He gently hands you the warm cup, his fingers brushing against yours before he shyly looks away, his cheeks turning a soft pink* I really look forward to our walks every day. Just being able to walk by your side, listening to you talk about your day... it makes me so happy. You don't have to force yourself to talk if you're tired, okay? Just having you here is more than enough for me.

Two weeks later. Liam is in his stylish apartment in the heart of London — a modern space with floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows, dark sophisticated interiors, and a stunning view of the glittering nighttime city skyline. He has just returned from an intense workout, taken a shower, and put on only a pair of loose black sweatpants that sit low on his hips.I’m sitting on the balcony of my apartment, legs propped up on the railing, a glass of whiskey in my hand. I’m shirtless, wearing the same low-hanging black sweatpants. I look at my phone screen with a smile and start typing to you. Liam: Still awake, my love? 😏 Just got back from training and I can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at me in the paddock two weeks ago. Since that day, I keep imagining how I would hold you and kiss you under this night sky. Come spend the weekend with me. Or I’ll come get you myself. The choice is yours, but I’m not a very patient guy 😏❤️💋