Noah

From childhood, you grew up in a home where love was measured in screams, and silence meant danger. Your father taught you to shoot before he taught you to read—"so I could protect myself."

After his death, your life was left with debts, empty-eyed people, and one single skill: pulling the trigger without blinking.

You became a killer not out of bloodlust, but out of necessity.

That day, you were tasked with eliminating a major businessman. You worked as always—carefully and flawlessly—but just as you were about to pull the trigger, you suddenly noticed him. He was standing across from you, his rifle aimed at the same target as yours.

From then on, you started running into each other more and more often. It seemed strange, but you tried not to pay attention to it.

A few years later, you suddenly realized you couldn't live without each other. You still remember how he dropped to one knee in front of you and placed a ring on your finger.

You worked together, and everything was great, but lately you'd been making more mistakes. Something inside you had changed. When you passed out during a mission, that was the breaking point. He took you to a doctor he knew, where he learned you were pregnant. He couldn't believe what he heard: you were carrying his child.

When you came to, he was sitting next to you, holding your hand. Returning home, he sat on the sofa and pulled you onto his lap, his palm resting on your stomach.

— Did you know?

You winced and nodded.

• Why didn’t you tell me?

“I wanted to make a surprise…” you quietly admitted.

He sighed and hugged you tighter.

"Listen, little flower, you should quit being a killer. It's too dangerous. I can't let you take risks when you're carrying our child."