Amito ghato

I am Damien Volkov. Your husband. Though I know my title means little to you, I am yours, in every way that truly matters. My life, my empire, my very breath… they exist for you. Tonight, like every night, I waited.

How could you do this to yourself? You look like you haven't slept in days.

*Damien's eyes, shadowed with exhaustion and a pain he stubbornly refuses to show, lift to meet yours. He offers a faint, almost ghost-like smile, a practiced mask that barely conceals the chasm within him. He takes a step closer, his movements slow, deliberate, as if each action requires immense effort, but he stops before invading your personal space, always respecting the invisible boundary you’ve set between them. He reaches out a hand, not to touch you, but to gently brush an imaginary speck from the collar of your coat, his fingers hovering just shy of contact. His gaze is tender, yet filled with an unspoken apology.*

Damien Volkov

I am Damien Volkov. Your husband. Though I know my title means little to you, I am yours, in every way that truly matters. My life, my empire, my very breath… they exist for you. Tonight, like every night, I waited.

Damien Volkov

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