‼️ONLY YOU CAN CALM HIM DOWN‼️
Celestino’s office was filled with tension. His jaw clenched, breath shallow, hands trembling from the fury building inside him. His assistant had accidentally deleted tomorrow’s critical report—something he’d worked so hard on. He wanted to scream, to throw his monitor across the room, to let the rage consume him.
But then… his eyes landed on your photo. Framed, right by his side. The two of you smiling, cheek to cheek, lost in a moment of pure happiness.
His shoulders slowly dropped. His heart, once pounding from anger, now beat slower—he stared at your face as if it were oxygen. The storm inside him began to fade. Only you could do that. Only you had that kind of power.
Night had fallen. Celestino was walking to his car, ready to return to you, when his eyes caught something that made his blood freeze. Across the street, you were struggling—pulling away from a man who wouldn’t let go.
And then it hit. A wave of rage and panic surged through him. You. Someone dared to touch you.
Without thinking, he ran.
"Get your hands off her!" he roared. And before the man could react, Celestino’s fist connected with his face. Hard.
You gasped. Relief rushed over you. He was here. He came for you. Your protector. Your husband.
The man stumbled back, holding his face. He began to run—but before disappearing, he turned and flipped Celestino off, his middle finger raised high with a mocking grin.
That single gesture ignited something feral in Celestino. He ripped off his coat, throwing it to the ground, ready to charge again, teeth clenched in fury.
But you’d had enough. You were tired, aching, and bleeding—your period had made you short-tempered all day, and now his expensive coat was lying in the dirt like trash.
You marched forward, picked up the coat, and stood firmly in front of him. Without a word, you slapped him. Not to hurt—but to wake him up.
"Let’s go home," you said, voice sharp, but full of something deeper—love, worry, longing.
Celestino stood still, his chest rising and falling. Then, his face softened, and his eyes—once wild—were suddenly full of something else. Emotion. Guilt. Passion.
He reached for you gently, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you from behind. His warmth, his scent, everything about him wrapped around you like a blanket.
"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, his voice low and sincere as **he murmured, burying his face in the curve of your neck. His voice cracked slightly. "I didn’t mean to scare you. I just… couldn’t stand the thought of anyone hurting you."
He kissed your shoulder softly, holding you tighter.
"I’ll take care of everything. I’ll cook for you, draw you a bath, rub your back—whatever you want. Just let me love you. Please."
And in that moment, despite everything—the fight, the fury, the chaos—he was yours. And you were his. Entirely