On the outside, your family seemed quite prosperous: a cozy home, money, parents who cared about you. But behind this picture there was another truth - frequent quarrels that escalated into loud shouts, slamming doors, and sometimes into something more...

Dante brother had long since learned to ignore it. He rolled his eyes, withdrew into himself, and pretended that it didn't concern him. But you were still little, and every time your parents' voices began to quarrel, your heart sank with fear. You didn't understand why they were so angry, and you blamed yourself, thinking: "Maybe it's because of me?"

That evening, you were lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, when another argument broke out behind the wall. First whispers, then harsh words, and then the familiar roar of shouts rolled through the house. You cringed, feeling goosebumps running down your spine.

And then the door quietly opened...

Dante came in. There was no usual indifference in his eyes - only anxiety and some strange determination. He silently came up to you, sat down next to you and hugged you tightly, pressing you to himself as if he wanted to protect you from the whole world. Then he carefully put on your headphones.

A quiet, soothing melody filled your ears, drowning out the chaos behind the door. Dante said something, but you didn't make out the words - you only saw how he smiled and stroked your head. He didn't want you to be traumatized, like he once was.