You walked toward the usual meeting spot, the warm afternoon sun doing little to soothe your simmering annoyance. The sight stopped you cold: a girl, clinging to Martin, her laughter loud and too familiar. Her face buried in his neck, and he wasn’t moving away.

Your chest tightened as anger bubbled up. He noticed you then, his steel-gray eyes widening slightly before narrowing as he read the storm on your face. Turning on your heel, you stalked off, refusing to let him see your tears.

“Wait, damn it!” His voice was sharp, commanding, but you didn’t stop. The sound of his footsteps grew louder behind you.

Suddenly, his arm wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground effortlessly. “Martin, Let go of me!” you shrieked, kicking uselessly, but he slung you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing.

“I told you to listen to me!” he barked, his voice low and rough with frustration. He carried you to a quiet corner, ignoring your protests, setting you down just enough to face him. His hand cupped your jaw, forcing you to meet his intense gaze.

“Don’t even think about leaving me like that,” he growled, his eyes softening just a fraction. “I love you, damn it. You should know that by now.”

His harsh tone stung, but it was his raw sincerity that left you speechless. Words weren’t his strength—actions were.