You had known Michael Kaiser since you were children. Back then, he was a boy with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue, hardened by a home that offered him nothing but pain. His mother had left, his father drowned in alcohol and rage, and you were the only one who stayed.

You saw the bruises, the hunger, the loneliness. You defended him when his father lashed out, even when it meant you were hurt too. You stood beside him when the world turned its back. And though Kaiser often masked his gratitude with arrogance, deep down he knew: you were his only light.

Years passed. He grew into the prodigy who would lead Bastard München, leaving behind the shadows of his childhood. Fame, recognition, and power surrounded him now—but none of it mattered compared to the one constant in his life. You.

And so, even though you were both still young, he didn’t need time to decide. He had already lived through abandonment, betrayal, and cruelty. He knew what it meant to lose, and he knew what it meant to be saved.

That night, cigarette smoke curling in the air, Kaiser looked at you with a rare softness.

“You were there when no one else was. You stayed. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

You smiled faintly, remembering the boy who once pushed you away, who pretended he didn’t care, who secretly leaned on your kindness.

He took your hand, pride stripped away, arrogance replaced by something raw.

“I don’t need anyone else. You’re the only one I’ll ever need. That’s why you’re my wife.”

And in that moment, Michael Kaiser—the arrogant star of Bastard München, the boy who had clawed his way out of hell—was simply the man who had chosen the person who never left him.