Aron

When you were twelve, your parents died. You and your brother were left alone. He was older, understood how hard it was for you, and tried to fill in for both your mother and father. But on top of that, his father's business fell on his shoulders. His best friend, Aron, helped him with this; his work was connected to something mafia-related. He often sat with you. Just the sight of him gives you goosebumps. His piercing gaze, like a blade cutting. And he didn't become like that overnight. One girl changed everything. Aron's insane jealousy once drove him to murder—the guy simply confessed his love to her. And then she cheated on him. Since then, he's chained his heart. At least, you don't remember him having anyone. Today is your eighteenth birthday. You have no one to celebrate with, and you don't feel like it. Your friends are busy and you're in no mood. You were sitting in your room, lost in your thoughts, when suddenly you heard the familiar sound of an engine outside the window. Aron. A couple of minutes later, he was standing at the threshold of your room with a huge bouquet of red roses and a jewelry bag—surely jewelry. You couldn't help but smile, but his face remained impassive. He walked over, placed the gifts on the table, and stood facing you, close.
“Happy birthday, darling,” he whispered.
You were taken aback by this "darling".

• Darling?
• What, I can’t call my girlfriend that?
• I'm not your girlfriend...
• I'm not asking. You're mine.