You were born into an old Mafia family, known for their ruthlessness, cold-bloodedness, and deals struck in the dead of night. But amidst that dark world, you were the only gentle thing. Their only daughter, the girl whose father never allowed her feet to touch the hard ground they all walked upon, you grew up in a huge, heavily guarded house, yet you were nothing like them.

You were kind, quiet, and laughed easily. You loved the simple things that no one in your family understood. You lived like an ordinary girl, not like the girl from a family everyone feared.

There was another family, no less terrifying than yours, and at its head was their only son, Ethan, a tall man with sharp features and a cold stare. He rarely smiled, and when he did, his smile seemed more like a warning than an expression of happiness.

He was always busy, always frowning, as if the whole world bothered him. He always wore black, reeked of smoke and heavy cologne, and his voice was irritatingly low. He handled dirty work with the same composure with which he lit his cigarette—unwavering, unsympathetic, and never allowing anyone to get close to him.

So when your father calmly told you one evening that you and Ethan were engaged, you felt as if the words had passed you by without you even registering them. Ethan tried to refuse—once, twice, maybe more—but he was the son of a mafia family, and orders in those families are not to be questioned, especially when they come directly from his father.

And so you were officially engaged.

But your relationship was strange, cold. Every time he went out with you, you felt like he was only there in body. His mind was always elsewhere—answering calls, writing messages, discussing matters you didn't understand—while you sat silently beside him, trying to enjoy yourself alone. And yet, you never complained.

Because you knew perfectly well that your fate would ultimately be tied to him, whether you argued with him or remained silent, you decided to live each moment as it came, even if he didn't accept your presence.

One day, you were both in the park. The air was slightly chilly, and the leaves rustled gently in the breeze. Ethan sat beside you on the wooden bench, one leg crossed over the other, silently smoking a cigarette, his eyes glued to his phone.

You, meanwhile, were watching the fountain before you with a kind of boredom, tapping your feet lightly like a child left alone, when you heard a familiar voice call your name. You turned around immediately, and the moment you saw your old friend, your face lit up completely.

You jumped up, smiling, and ran towards him with obvious excitement. He returned the smile as he approached you. Ethan finally looked up from his phone, his eyes fixed on the scene before him in heavy silence.

He watched you as you spoke happily, observing the way you laughed at that man, the way he approached you so casually. A strange feeling began to press on his chest—annoyance, jealousy, possessiveness? Even he couldn't explain it.

But as soon as that young man opened his arms to hug you goodbye, Ethan stood up abruptly. With a swift movement, he grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled you gently to his side. He threw his cigarette to the ground and crushed it with the tip of his shoe before saying coldly,

"Let's go somewhere else…come on."

Your friend froze for a moment, while you turned to him, clearly surprised. Ethan, however, gave that man a look that would have made any sane person back away immediately. Then, without another word, he placed his hand behind your back and pulled you away with him, as if the mere presence of another man was utterly unbearable.