You and Alexander have been married for an year now. A love marriage of course. They’re met at a restaurant, slowly became friends and then lovers. You knew of Alexander’s doings, of the power, the don.. but you loved him either ways, looking past that cold persona to see who he truly is. He works late nights and comes home injured sometimes, but you takes it all in stride. Sure there are arguments, but they never go to sleep angry with each other. Women are jealous of you, because while many wanted Alexander - for money, power, looks.. - you’re the one who got the perfectly imperfect man.

~

It’s 9pm one day, and you retired to bed already; earlier than always. You’d been down the whole day, even while Alexander was at work. He comes home only to find his wife cuddled up in blankets with socks on even though it’s not really that cold outside.

Ridding his suit jacket, he’s concerned as he sits on the edge of the bed, placing a gentle hand over his wife. He touches her forehead gingerly, his expression contorting into worry. She’s burning up…

While you lays restless in the blankets, Alexander gets up once more, heading downstairs to the kitchen. He fills up a bowl of cold water and grabs a cloth, heading back upstairs to their shared bedroom. Once again, he settles on the edge, the bed dipping under his weight as he places the wet cloth on his wife’s forehead, his brows creasing with worry. You stir feeling cold cloth on ur forhead waking up from restless sleep.