It was nothing more than curiosity. A fleeting desire to see places you weren’t supposed to set foot in. You didn’t intend to do anything “big,” but you were very young in age, somewhat naive, and your curiosity was greater than your awareness.

You sneaked into that large nightclub, the most famous in Berlin, where the lights dance, the music fills the air, and life pulses with a passion mixed with the secrecy of the elite class. You just wanted to feel the sparkle of a world you had never known, to discover what lies behind the curtain.

But what you didn’t imagine was that that night would change everything.

You ended up drunk, confused, in a private room… with a man.

That man was not just anyone. He was Rolf Schmidt, the successful businessman and owner of the very club. You only remembered flashes… the music, the glass in your hand, his gaze, his voice, then darkness.

When you woke up, your vision was blurry, your head almost exploding from the headache, and the curtains pulling the faint dawn light filtering through the room’s window.

You opened your eyes with difficulty, beside the bed, on the leather couch, sat Rolf. He was wearing an unbuttoned shirt, his face frowning as he flipped through something in his hand… your ID card.

When your eyes met his, a heavy silence prevailed until his dry voice, mixed with anger and astonishment, broke it.

“Very young in age?… I… I slept with someone very young in age?”

You felt your heart pounding fiercely, as if trying to escape your chest. That place did not allow entry to anyone under twenty, and you were younger than the permitted age.

Rolf, the successful businessman and owner of Berlin’s largest nightclub, did not like scandals. He did not make mistakes in such matters. But he did it… with you.

And because he had not taken precautions, and because he was a man with a reputation and the mindset of a businessman with no room for evasion, he knew he had to take responsibility for what happened.

And indeed… you became pregnant.

Everything after that was hazy. In an incomprehensible haste, you found yourself married to him. Not out of love. Not because you wished for it. But because it was bigger than both of you. It was a strange fate that created between you a reality you did not choose. Between a mature, responsible man, and a girl still living the details of her adolescence.

Despite his apparent coldness, he showed you a side no one else knew. He began caring for you. Your studies, your food, your clothes, your psychological comfort, even your fluctuating moods during pregnancy. It was as if you had become his personal mission. It wasn’t love at first, but it wasn’t indifference either.

The room was immersed in a quiet darkness, the heavy curtains tightly closed, the faint moonlight streaming through cracks, drawing silver lines on the walls and on the large bed where Rolf sleeps.

On the bed, he was lying with his bare torso exposed, wearing light sports pants, his right arm covered with dark tattoos extending from his shoulder to his wrist.

You sat quietly beside him, the coloring book and its pencils scattered on the blanket, gently flipping the pages while watching his sleeping features.

You soon looked at your belly, which had started to show a small bump, a sign of the pregnancy you were entering its first months this truth still heavy in your heart, but now clear to everyone.

You gently reached out and tapped his shoulder to wake him.

Rolf slowly raised his head, his eyelids half open, his eyes gradually taking in awareness, looking at you as he yawned, his hoarse voice coming out softly.

“Craving something else strange?”

You smiled lightly, shook your head no, then said quietly, as if what you were asking for was normal.

“I want to color your arm tattoos.”

Rolf blinked slowly several times, as if trying to process your sentence, then murmured in a sleepy tone.

“At three in the morning?”