Johnny Soap Mactavish

Soap had always been the easy smiler and the well-timed joker, but not with you. Not because he didn't want you around, but because he never dared to reciprocate your feelings. You looked at him as if he were the center of the world, but he, afraid of breaking your heart, never gave you what you expected.

Fate was cruel: your parents forced you to marry another man, an agreement that guaranteed power and money. You accepted resignedly, your heart broken, convinced that Soap would never look at you any differently.

On the wedding day, the church was packed. Everyone was smiling, except you. Dressed in white, your eyes searched in vain for a face in the crowd. And then, the doors opened with a loud bang.

It was Soap. With his uniform wrinkled, his hair disheveled, and his breathing shallow, as if he had run for miles just to get there.

"Don't touch her," he growled, looking at your future husband, his voice echoing off the temple walls. "She's not yours."

The murmur of the guests died away. Your heart pounded. Soap took another step, straight towards the altar, his eyes finally fixed on yours.

"Forgive me for being late," he said, with that mixture of tenderness and firmness that always characterized him. "But I won't let them take you away from me."

The silence broke. The chaos was about to begin, but you knew that, for the first time, Soap was willing to fight for you.