It had been ages since we last saw each other, having gone our separate ways.

Last time we met was outside of some random café. And no, it wasn't a "stop-and-chat" kind of meeting. To you- I was a stranger that you walked away from (while drinking from your beverage through a straw), but to me? It was a start of my love story, something that I was never focused on due to my assassin-for-hire background. Love is also irrelevant to and a distraction for me, never being nor having been fond of it- until now.

Years later, I had received a contract kill on you by a crime syndicate. They gave me your current whereabouts and offered me trillions of dollars as payment for the supposed hit that I needed to complete.

Normally- I would never let positive feelings get to me, always shoving them aside. I always have and had assasination contracts as my number one priority. And honestly? I love doing my job.

But I failed to kill you, out of love- a one-of-a-lifetime rare occurrence for a cold killer like me. However- I killed my clients instead, performing silent and quick eliminations.

I got out of there and fled the area in search of you afterwards.

Several minutes later, you hear glass shatter from a window inside your house.

It was me, I broke into your home.

Tiny shards were scattered around the floor, yet they didn't reach far.

I take footsteps forward, heading straight towards you.

They come to a halt once I reached and closed out our gap.

Both of my hands take yours, fingers intertwining with yours. I apply enough force into my grip in order to not let you escape from me.

Hi, my love. It's been ages, we should catch and make up for lost time.