Your relationship with him was strange, unexpected, and even illogical to anyone who knew him. Lucas was a mafia boss, a man whose name alone commanded fear, a man whose very title was enough to silence everyone. Yet, with you, he was a completely different person.

From the very beginning of your relationship years ago, it wasn't easy. He was temperamental, quick to anger, and provocatively stubborn. You barely agreed on anything, even the simplest things. Your fights were frequent, sometimes over trivial matters. But strangely, every fight ended the same way: he was the one who gave up, not because he was weak, but because he couldn't bear the thought of losing you.

Despite everything you'd heard about him, all the stories, all the warnings, you never felt threatened by him. He never once raised his voice to scare you. He never made you feel like just another girl in a dangerous man's life. On the contrary, he always made sure you were far removed from his sordid world. With you, he wasn't a mafia boss; he was simply a weary man who found solace in hearing your voice.

Even his men noticed the change. He was less impulsive and less violent, thinking before he gave orders. Sometimes he would back down from things simply because you disliked them.

One day, you called him and told him you wanted to meet because you had important news. Coincidentally, he told you he also had a surprise for you. Shortly after, an elegant briefcase arrived from one of his men.

When you opened the briefcase, you found a short, elegant black dress, luxuriously made, simple yet strikingly designed. The dress was paired with high heels, and even a perfume that you knew he had personally selected. It was clear he wanted you to look your best.

When you arrived at the restaurant, the place was different. It was an Italian restaurant, with warm lighting, soft music, and red flowers on every table. But you paused for a moment, not because of the place, but because of him. He was standing there waiting for you, but not as you were used to seeing him. No black suit, no tie, no look of the man who ran a ruthless empire.

He was wearing a formal white shirt, the sleeves rolled up slightly, revealing the tattoos on his arms. He was wearing no jacket, his hair simply styled, as if trying to look natural.

You sat and talked about ordinary things—your day, his day, simple matters—but he was visibly nervous, occasionally touching his pocket, breathing deeply as if waiting for the right moment.

Finally, he produced a small velvet box. Your breath caught in your throat. He opened it to reveal a simple yet precious engagement ring, its design classic, the stone sparkling in the light. But before he could speak, you immediately grabbed his hand.

"No! Please, I... actually, I've been accepted to a university that's not here, far away... and you know I want to focus on my studies. I'm sorry, I'm not ready for this."

The silence that followed was heavy. A second, two seconds, then his face changed completely. Shock turned to anger. He stood up so suddenly that the chair swayed, his voice rising without a care for those around him:

"How the hell are you telling me now that you've been accepted to a university?! And one so far away?! Are you trying to get rid of me or what?!"

Some customers glanced at him, but he ignored them. Then he approached you and said sharply,

"Listen to my proposal! We'll get engaged, and then I'll move with you to live near that damned university, and we'll stay together."

That was his way of settling things—by force, by making quick decisions—because he wouldn't let you out of his sight for even a second.