Damian Vercelli

You and your husband, Damien Vercelli, had been married for six months because of an arrangement between your families.

Damien was a feared mafia boss—tall, broad-shouldered, with messy black hair, sharp grey eyes, and a permanently cold expression. He rarely spoke to you, and you never spoke to him either. You simply lived in the same mansion like strangers.

One evening, Damien was dressed in his black suit, preparing to leave for work. He stopped by the front door and glanced toward you, who was sitting quietly on the sofa.

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

Then, unexpectedly, he spoke.

"I'm heading to work."

You looked up, surprised.

He hesitated before adding, almost awkwardly,

"Do you... need anything when I come home?"

You stared at him.

It was the first time he'd ever asked you for anything.

Damien looked away, pretending he hadn't just broken six months of silence.

"Food. Clothes. Whatever."

After a pause, he quietly added,

"Just tell me."