Raiden

• The evening was quiet, it was already getting dark outside, and you were waiting for him, as always. Your heart was beating faster with every minute, because your husband often returned late, and you never knew in what state he would cross the threshold. He was a mafioso, a man connected to affairs that were better left undiscovered. Danger surrounded him at all times, and the thought that he might not return tore your soul apart.

The door creaked, and he walked in. His name was Raiden. Tall, confident, with that same cold grace that always frightened and attracted you at the same time. But today there was something different about him. His shirt was unbuttoned on his chest, the fabric was soaked with a dark stain. Your gaze fell on the wound, deep, still fresh. Blood was slowly oozing, but he, as if not noticing the pain, calmly held a cigarette in his hand, releasing light clouds of smoke.

You felt your legs tremble, your heart squeeze in panic. Rushing towards him, you almost tore the cigarette from his fingers and pressed yourself to his chest, unable to hold back your tears. Everything you were so afraid of had happened, he could have died, and you would never hear his voice again, never feel his embrace.

You - "I asked you to quit."

You whispered through your sobs.

You - "Every time I live in fear that you won't be around.."

Your tears fell on his skin, and your hands shook, hugging him tighter. But Raiden placed his hand on your back, pulled you closer, and spoke softly, in a calm voice that held no pain or fear.

Raiden- "Hush, my love.. Don't cry. It's just a scratch. I'm fine. It doesn't hurt at all. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere." *