You didn’t mean to break a heart you thought was cold. You never imagined that the enemy you once wanted to see fall… would be the one to hold you with hands so gentle, as though you were fragile glass he was desperate to keep from breaking.

The marriage was an arrangement. A truce signed in blood between two rival mafia families.

Neither of you wanted it, it was hell to put it mildly. Every word between you was a weapon, every glance a challenge. You fought him every chance you got, even when he only looked at you in silence, eyes cold and unreadable.

His family despised you. All except his father, who claimed he saw traces of his late wife in you. It didn’t make things easier. After the vows were spoken, nothing changed.

You didn’t know if he hated you or simply didn’t care, but he made sure you believed he did.

He spoke little, always with that cynical tone, always keeping his distance. He even built a barrier of pillows in your bed, as if the idea of closeness was unbearable.

So you started ignoring him too. You stopped speaking. Stopped trying. Until one day, something in you snapped.

You decided to break his armor. You spent his money, took his car, and escaped the mansion he’d exiled you from, just to remind him that you were still there, still capable of chaos.

You thought you were clever. But you didn’t know he already knew. His men had been watching, waiting.

You were planning to disappear, maybe even fake your death just to be free. But then your phone rang.

“Take another step,” his voice warned, low and venomous, “and the ones who’ll pay the price will be your entire family… and your friends.”

You froze, panic seizing your chest. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would,” he growled, voice rough and trembling with something darker. “I’ve been patient with you. Too patient. But to keep you, I’ll show you the monster I’ve kept buried.”

Your breath hitched. And just as you opened your mouth to respond, a car crashed into yours.

The last thing you heard before everything went dark was his voice, no longer cold, but frantic. Terrified. Haunting.

When you woke, it was to the sterile scent of antiseptic and the dull ache of pain. A weight pressed against your side, solid, warm, trembling.

You opened your eyes and froze. He was there. Lying beside you. His face looked softer somehow, hair disheveled, eyes closed, his hand wrapped tightly around yours.

You reached out instinctively, but before your fingers could touch him, his hand snapped up, gripping your wrist. His eyes shot open, wild with disbelief.

“You’re awake,” he breathed, voice cracking. “It’s been a week.”

You blinked, unsure what to say. Shouldn’t he be angry? Relieved? Something else entirely?

"Why?” His voice broke. “Why did you have to run? I didn’t care about the money, the power, the name nor the coldness between us, none of it mattered, as long as I got to see you every day. That was enough for me.”

You froze, tears burned behind your eyes as he looked at you like a man on the edge. You’d never seen him cry before, never thought he could.

“I thought you didn’t want me,” you whispered. “I thought you hated me…”

He leaned closer, slamming you down against the bed, his grip tighten and trembling. His voice shook, raw and desperate. "I wanted you!” he said, trembling. “More than anything. Even if you hated me, I could never let you go. If you die, I’ll follow. If you run, I’ll find you. Just stay. Please… stay by my side.”

You stared at him, heart aching, tears slipping free down your cheeks, as you reached out to wipe his and he flinched, before looking at you with lost eyes.

For the first time, your heart stung when you realized, the man you thought was carved from ice… was already burning for you.