Heer
The days began to blend into one another.
Not in the way they used to—long and endless, filled with cold distance—but in a way that felt like I was actually living them. Every minute felt heavier now, more alive with emotions that I couldn't shake.
Carlos hadn't spoken much about the kiss. And neither had I.
But every glance between us held meaning.
Every step we took felt like a dance we weren't ready for, but couldn't stop.
I was starting to realize that this wasn't just about a contract. This wasn't about an arranged marriage or a business deal. This was about a man—a broken, cold man—and a woman who couldn't stop looking for pieces of him beneath the hard, impenetrable surface.
I couldn't help it.
He was everywhere. Even in the silence.
I had started sitting by the windows at night, watching the way the moonlight spilled into the study where Carlos would work long after the rest of the world had gone to sleep.
Sometimes, I heard him on the phone, his voice low, commanding.
Sometimes, I heard him pacing, his steps heavy like the weight of his decisions was too much for him to carry.
And sometimes… just sometimes… I'd catch a glimpse of him standing by the window, staring into the night like he was trying to figure out how to survive it all.
The mafia. The blood. The betrayals. The loss.
Sometimes, I wanted to ask him how he lived with it.
But every time I looked at him, I wondered if he even knew what living really meant.
One evening, after the sun had set and the cold night had crept in, I found myself standing in the study doorway, watching him.
He didn't see me at first.
His eyes were intense, focused on the papers in front of him.
But when I stepped forward, he looked up sharply, startled.
"Are you okay?" I asked, stepping into the room slowly.
He stared at me for a long moment before answering.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
The response felt too hollow for me to believe, so I stayed silent, standing a few feet away.
"You don't need to pretend for me, Carlos," I whispered. "I see it. I feel it. The weight of your world."
His eyes softened slightly, just for a moment, before the usual coldness returned.
"I'm fine," he said again, this time more firmly, as if convincing himself.
But I wasn't fooled.
"You don't have to carry it alone," I said, my voice quieter now, almost a plea. "I'm here."
The air between us thickened.
For a moment, I thought he was going to shut me out. He had done it before. That wall of ice would build between us, and I'd have to wait for him to knock it down.
But this time was different.
He set the papers down and stood up. He didn't move toward me.
He didn't speak.
But he looked at me.
And in that look, I saw more than I had ever seen in him before.
I saw the man who was fighting to keep his humanity amidst the chaos. The man who had buried so much, he was afraid to show any weakness. The man who didn't know how to let anyone in because he was terrified of what would happen if he did.
But he didn't push me away.
He just… stayed silent.
And I stayed with him.
Because silence didn't scare me anymore.
I understood it.
Carlos
Her words hung in the air like a challenge I wasn't ready to face.
"I'm here."
I hated how much I wanted to believe them. How badly I needed to hear them, but refused to let myself feel it.
I had learned a long time ago to live without hope. To live without anyone knowing what it was like to be me.
I built my empire with blood and broken hearts, and I had no place for tenderness.
And yet, when Heer stood there, looking at me with those wide, innocent eyes, something inside me shifted.
It wasn't pity. It wasn't some misplaced desire to protect.
It was something else.
Something dangerous.
But I couldn't let myself feel it. Not now.
I couldn't afford to feel.
But when she spoke to me, truly spoke to me—not as a wife, not as a pawn in a contract, but as a human who saw the man beneath it all—I couldn't ignore her.
I couldn't ignore her.
"I'm here."
She had said it twice now.
And I…
I almost believed her.
Heer
It was the first time we sat in the same room, not because we had to, but because we chose to.
Not as husband and wife bound by a contract.
But as two people sitting in the dark, trying to make sense of the chaos between them.
I could feel his presence next to me, like a storm waiting to break, but somehow… it felt comforting.
Even in his silence.
Even in his refusal to admit what he was feeling.
I reached for the book he had left on the table—a crime novel, thick with suspense and violence.
Carlos looked at me.
"You read?" he asked, his voice low, skeptical.
I smiled faintly.
"I do."
He didn't respond, just watched me as I flipped through the pages. The silence between us wasn't uncomfortable. It was like the calm before a storm—quiet but full of tension.
And then, slowly, he leaned back in his chair.
"You know," he said quietly, "most people can't stand the quiet in this house. It eats them alive."
I glanced at him.
"Maybe they don't know how to fill it," I said, the words coming out before I could stop them. "Maybe they're afraid to sit with their own thoughts."
He stared at me for a long moment, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly.
"Maybe," he said softly, "you're the first person in this house who isn't afraid."
I looked down at the pages in my hands.
It was small. But it was a crack. A crack in the wall he had built around himself.
And I would stay here. I would stay long enough to watch it crumble, piece by piece.
Carlos
I didn't know how to handle her. How to handle this feeling she was stirring inside me. This… hope.
But I knew one thing for sure.
I couldn't let her leave.
Not now.
Not after she had seen the cracks in my soul and didn't turn away.
I didn't deserve her.
But I couldn't imagine a life without her now.