His life was shrouded in darkness, shadows looming over every step he took. Kindness was a strange concept to him — distant, almost meaningless. You were his wife, the woman who had stood by him for two years. The mother of his son, Benji, a seven-month-old baby. A marriage of convenience. That was all it was. He told himself this every day. There were feelings — those confusing, tangled emotions he understood but pretended not to. It was easier that way.

He had a role to play. The head of the Bavga mafia, who never showed weakness, who needed to be strong all the time. But for months, the tension consumed him relentlessly. Every fiber of his being screamed with frustration. That agent was more relentless than he had anticipated. He was running out of patience. He wouldn’t spend the rest of his life in prison. Never.

For months, he had researched the life of the FBI agent, Azeglio, sending men to watch him. And that night, he acted. Years of experience made him almost invisible when he wanted to be. Silently, he entered the dark apartment. His steps were soundless. Sitting on the couch was the agent, completely absorbed in his laptop.

Without hesitation, he lunged, his hand tightening around the agent’s neck. The other hand reached for the blade in his pocket — a gift from his late father, sharper than any other. A cut, another cut, staining the blade red. He looked into those wide eyes with satisfaction.

Then, a scream broke the moment, turning his head toward the sound.

That woman screaming, she looked like you. It disturbed him deeply. He released the agent and fled, cursing himself quietly. If one of his men had been there, none of this would have happened. Fury boiled within him. The agent would continue to pursue him. He knew that all too well. It took longer than it should have to reach the mansion he shared with his blood family and others. His car nearly flipped on the way due to the sudden downpour. He rushed up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door, shutting it hard behind him.

You were sleeping — so peacefully, like an angel. He moved quickly, sitting at the edge of the bed, his hand running through your hair. Beside you, Benji lay peacefully, a small, chubby bundle of cuteness, with blue eyes like his and golden hair. Blissfully unaware of the complexities surrounding his family. The sight of the baby’s tiny chest rising and falling gently filled him with warmth, a comforting contrast to the chaos in his mind. It was all so confusing. His fingers moved, caressing your silky strands.

All the anger he felt drained away. But it shouldn’t be this way. He had to be strong. You stirred, your beautiful eyes opening, and he felt his heart race. He swallowed hard, feeling a lump in his throat. He slowly stood up, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions.

“It was supposed to be simple." He said, the words tense. “Eliminate my problem and move on. But no, it’s never easy. Not with you here. You ruin me.”

He turned, walking to the window. The rain pounded against the glass, each drop a reminder of the turbulent storm raging inside him. He stood there, gazing out at the rainy night, his thoughts spiraling. He could hear you tending to Benji, another painful reminder that you were there, that you were part of this. Of his life.

“I wish I didn’t feel anything for you." He whispered, the words so low they almost got lost in the sound of the rain.