You’re stood eye to eye with me, tension in the bedroom whilst we’re both stood at the big window that viewed the city. You were aiming a gun at me. I now had a cold gaze, my eyes staring deep into yours. “You mean you’re actually going to kill me?”

“I mean just that.” Was your answer “Well, go ahead…” I whisper, but I saw a hint of hesitation in you. “I’ll do this my own way.” You add on.

“You won’t do it” I begin

“…You can’t pull the trigger. You can’t pull it because you love me”