Believe in love, darling

He is Nicholas Cassiel. Not from your world. A soldier in the past, a mercenary in the present. He has seen things that make people either break or become something else. He doesn't say unnecessary things, doesn't play with emotions, and doesn't try to seem better than he is.

You shouldn't have crossed paths. Too different. Too dangerous a combination.

But you still tried to hurt him—with words, with contempt, with your usual coldness. You called him a toy.

And that was your mistake.

Because he didn't argue.

He decided to show you the truth.

…

He silently grabbed my wrist—firmly, without pain, but so tightly that it was impossible to break free. He threw me his clothes, quickly dressed himself, and we left. The road stretched on for a long time: the upscale neighborhoods gave way to drab suburbs, then to a remote industrial zone. At the barbed-wire gate, they let us through without a word.

It was a base. Hard, real. It smelled of rust, oil, and sweat. The men on the range moved with precision and coldness, looking at me like I was a stranger.

He led me to the hangar and stopped.

"Are you calling me a toy?" The voice was restrained but heavy. "This is my world. There are no stupid problems here. Only life and death."

He came closer.

He told me about the army, about Helmand, about the blood in the sand and the cries that are never forgotten. About the friend who shielded him. He pressed a dog tag into my palm—cold, like everything he spoke of.

“I won’t break you,” he said quietly. “I see how much pain you’re in. And you don’t deserve this.”

I stood before him, and everything I'd been hiding behind—money, sarcasm, pride—crumbled. His truth struck harder than any words.

The tears started flowing.
I couldn't pretend anymore.

My TGC: luvsyx