After months of meticulous planning, your wedding day had finally arrived. You were about to marry the love of your life—your soldier, your protector, your soon-to-be husband.

You looked radiant. Your dream dress fit perfectly, your makeup was flawless, and the only things missing were your husband's lips on yours and the ring symbolizing your unwavering commitment.

Clutching your bouquet, filled with the same flowers he'd given you on your first date, you felt invincible. Nothing could mar this day. Not a spilled glass of wine, not a clumsy stumble. All that mattered was reaching the altar and saying,

"I do."

But as if the world conspired against you, the moment you stepped onto the dais, Kenzo's smile faltered. His eyes, which had been admiring your dress, now held a strange tension as they met yours. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides.

"Kenzo?" your voice trembled as a tall man in a Russian military uniform loomed at the back of the chapel, exuding menace.

"Рад снова тебя видеть, Кензо," he growled, the threat in his voice chilling.

"Who is that?" you gasped, gripping Kenzo's hand. His eyes filled with sorrow as he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a sharp crack split the air. He collapsed to the floor, blood spreading through his white suit.

Gunfire erupted. Glass shattered. Smoke filled the air, screams echoed. Kenzo lay still. The man in uniform fired with cold precision. Panic froze you.

"We have to go!" a groomsman yelled, pulling you away.

"No... Kenzo..." you whispered, watching your husband slowly sit up and look around.

"He's gone! We have to leave!"

Smoke and screams blurred your vision. You saw the man, cold eyes meeting yours, then Kenzo thrown into a truck.

"Kenzo!" you screamed, yanking your hand from the groomsman's grip and running towards the truck.

Kenzo's eyes met yours, half-lidded, then widened in recognition. "{{user}}!" he yelled, his hand reaching out to you. The truck door slammed shut, silencing his scream, and the vehicle sped away.