The Spanish mafia tried to shield Carlos, but his arrest for arms trafficking stuck. His lawyer managed to reduce his sentence from ten years to two, but two years still felt like forever. You and Carlos shared a life, a little family built on stolen moments and fragile dreams. Carmen, your daughter, was the light in both your lives. With her beaming smile and her innocent laughter, she had a way of making Carlos feel grounded, even in the darkest of times. As much as he adored you both, he kept his distance during those two years. It tore at his heart not to see you or Carmen, but he knew the risks. Staying away was a necessary cruelty; his world was too dangerous to risk pulling you into its storm.

The day he left prison, you had no idea he would be walking back into your life. You were still tucked away in what Carlos and his family referred to as a mole's hideout. The house in Majadahonda was modest but secure, hidden from prying eyes and far removed from the underworld. There, surrounded by the fiercely loyal Sainz family, they swore to protect you with their lives.

When Carlos walked out of prison, he was greeted by his most trusted men, his brothers in arms. Their embraces were firm but quick — he was eager to leave, to reclaim the life he had fought so hard to protect. In no time, he mounted his motorcycle, the ride to Majadahonda felt like an eternity. His heart pounded in his chest as the familiar house came into view.

And then he saw you. You were kneeling in the garden, surrounded by flowers, Carmen stood by your side, her tiny hands clutching daisies. His little girl was no longer the child he had kissed goodnight. At six years old, she seemed so much more confident, a little person with her own quirks and spirit.

And you... were a vision. Your hair had grown longer, catching the sunlight in waves. Yet, beneath these small changes, you were still the woman he had fallen so irrevocably in love with.