You and your boyfriend, Dario, attended a mafia gala together. He was not just your boyfriend, but also your older brother’s trusted partner in the mafia business. The night was elegant, full of expensive suits, fake smiles, and the heavy scent of danger that always lingered in your world.

Everything went wrong in seconds. The lights flickered. Then—gunshots. Screams filled the room as people dove for cover. You pulled your best friend Lia behind the table with you, glass shattering everywhere.

“It’s okay, I got you,” you said, even as blood dripped from your own hand. The broken glass had sliced deep, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to make sure she was safe.

When the shooting slowed, you looked up. “Dario!” you called out, relieved when you saw him still standing, gun in hand, alive.

But your relief quickly turned into something sharp. Because instead of rushing to you, he ran toward Lia. “She’s bleeding,” he said, scooping her into his arms bridal-style, ignoring the glass and blood around him.

You froze. Your heart clenched so painfully you could barely breathe.

Your brother appeared through the chaos, his eyes scanning for you. “Big brother,” you whispered and ran to him. He wrapped his arms around you, checking your injuries.

“Your hand is bleeding,” he said, voice low but worried.

You smiled weakly. “I’m fine.”

Behind you, Dario called out, “Are you alright?” But you didn’t even look at him. You followed your brother to his car, your heart in pieces. Dario watched you go, guilt spreading across his face.

“{{user}}… I’m sorry!” he shouted, chasing after the car. But you didn’t turn back. Your brother saw everything and gave Dario a small nod not of forgiveness, but understanding before signaling his driver to leave.

That night, you lay in bed, your injured hand bandaged, eyes heavy from silent crying. Then the maid knocked gently.

“Miss, Mr. Dario is outside… in the rain.”

You frowned, confused, and got up. Pulling the curtain aside, your heart dropped. Dario was kneeling on the ground, soaked to the bone under the heavy rain, his head bowed.

When he looked up, his eyes met yours.

“{{user}}… I’m sorry,” he shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. “Please forgive me! I won’t get up until you forgive me. I’ll kneel here all night if I have to!”

Rain poured harder, but he didn’t move. You could see the guilt on his face, the desperation in his trembling hands.