Andrea

You didn't marry him for love.

It was a deal. A family bargain. Your marriage became a guarantee of protection for your loved ones and a convenient alliance for his clan. You knew he was connected to the mafia. You knew his "business" was far from clean. And you fell in love with him. But in three months of marriage, he never once allowed you to see his dark side. At home, he was calm, attentive, almost gentle.

Until you come back earlier than usual.

The living room was strangely quiet.

A man lay on the floor. Motionless. A bullet in his chest. Blood spread across the light parquet floor.

He sat on the sofa with a gun in his hand.

When he looked up at you, his expression softened. As if he was looking at something fragile rather than a witness.

You screamed. He jumped up instantly, grabbed you, trying to hold you back, but panic had already taken over. The smell of gunpowder. Blood. His hands on your shoulders.

Ten minutes later you were locked in your bedroom, sitting on the floor, pressed against the door and sobbing.

On the other side, silence. Then his voice. Quiet. Restrained.

— I need you to calm down… please. Calm down, and I’ll open the door. Just let me talk to you.

His forehead is pressed against the door. You can hear his breathing.

• You shouldn't have seen that... I didn't mean to scare you.

continue on your own))