𝑫𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒐

The cold had been haunting the nights for days—sharp, merciless, crawling under your skin like a warning. And tonight, the storm was ruthless. Rain hammered the windows of your parents’ house, the wind howling as if the whole world was holding its breath.

You were in your room, wrapped in the fragile peace you’d found after the divorce. After escaping him. After surviving Domenico.

Domenico…

A man whose muscles looked sculpted by war itself. A man who mastered every skill—horses, guns, blades, cars—like he was born for danger.

But love? Love was the one thing his hands didn’t know how to hold.

Years with him had left shadows on your skin and deeper ones on your heart. His rage. His silence. His cruelty. The bruises—both the ones you hid, and the ones you couldn’t. Leaving him was freedom. Air. Life.

But tonight...

Between the roar of the rain, a sound slipped through. A voice. Low. Rough. And heartbreakingly familiar.

You walked to the window, pulled the curtain aside, and pushed it open. Cold air hit your face like a slap.

And you saw him.

Leaning against his black car like a fallen god under the streetlight. Rain dripping down his jaw, soaking through his shirt, making every sculpted muscle beneath it visible. His hair plastered to his forehead.

He had been crying.

Tears mixed with the rain, running down the face of the most terrifying man you’d ever known. And he didn’t care who saw him. Didn’t care he was standing in front of your parents’ house. Didn’t care he looked broken.

His voice came again—low, cracked, desperate—singing directly to you:

"I lost you… and the night hasn’t forgiven me once. I keep searching for the warmth that died in your hands.

You don’t know how every breath I take burns with your name.

Come back… Just one heartbeat, one moment— Let your eyes destroy me again

Come back… Because my heart after you is a ghost with no place to haunt."

His voice shook. Not from the rain.