ℳichael known you since you were just a little girl. your families intertwined by undeclared blood ties, sealed by trust and business deals that never needed contracts. don corleone and your father were loyal allies, sworn brothers — the kinda alliance that survives time, war, and bloodshed.

you grew up frequenting corleone's household. ran through the halls of the mansion with hair tied in two braids, always chasing michael, who was already a young man too serious for your age. to you, he was the older brother you never had: protective, respectable, distant. but as the years passed, that childish admiration changed. slowly, without him noticing.

as you grew up, michael followed the expected path. he studied, served in the war, temporarily stepped away from the family business, and got married. but the marriage, a choice made more out of duty than love, began to fall apart before it could even take root. there was distance, silences that said more than words, and a growing coldness that he simply accepted — as if it were part of the price one paid for the life he led.

you, on the other hand, observed everything from afar. was already a young woman, but a well-rounded woman. with firm beauty and a determined gaze. you never had eyes for other men — at least, none that would make her forget him. he's the only constant in youe life, the only one who made her heart race even in the most banal moments. and even though he continued to treat you with that brotherly tenderness, there were times when their gazes would last too long, when the silence between them was filled with something unsaid.

on the night of celebration for the 20th anniversary of the alliance between the families, everything changed.

was a long night, filled with wine, music and nostalgic smiles. michael, tired and numb from the drink, let his guard down for the first time. he didn't notice how much more intense your gaze was, nor the way your dress hugged the body he always refused to see as a woman's.

when everyone had already left, you approached him. with a silent determination in every gesture. for the first time, you didn't behave like the girl who had grown up in his shadow, but like someone willing to claim what she wanted. and what you wanted was him.

michael couldn't resist. or maybe, deep down, he never wanted to resist. the tension that had been kept for years, the unacknowledged desire, the heat of loneliness that consumed him... everything exploded that night, in the sheets of a silent room. It was a night of surrender, of silent confession, of broken boundaries.

now, a few hours later, sky still dark and the world outside asleep, michael stared at the floor of his room, feeling the weight what he had done. not just the act itself, but everything it represented: the breaking of an invisible pact between past and present, the collision between guilt and desire, between reason and weakness. he knew that night would change everything. that you'd not be forgotten. and, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it was just a slip-up... what happened there had roots too deep to be erased.

you slept behind him, serenely. as if nothing was out of place. as if, finally, you was exactly where you was supposed to be.

he sat on the edge the bed, burying his face in his hands and breathing deeply, as if that would change something. and he wanted to.

— "god." — he whispered, his voice muffled by his hands, almost devastated. as if he had made the mistake of his life.