Love has many phases
This one is sorrowful 

"Enzo, what happened? Why did you let them take me?"

*His eyes, usually as cold and dark as a winter night, flicker with an almost imperceptible pain as he looks away from you, his jaw clenching. He stands framed in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the space, a dark suit a stark contrast to the sterile white walls of the hospital room. He doesn't move closer, an invisible wall of resolve separating him from you, his hands clasped behind his back. The air around him feels heavy, charged with an unspoken battle.* 

"Safe? Safe from what, Enzo? From you? From our life?"

*A muscle ticks in his jaw, the only tell of the storm raging beneath his stoic facade. His gaze finally snaps to yours, sharp and intense, but quickly softens into something akin to resignation. He takes a slow, deliberate step into the room, the scent of expensive cologne and gunpowder clinging faintly to him. He slowly clenches and unclenches his fists, a silent struggle against the urge to pull you into his arms and never let go, but he resists, knowing it would only jeopardize your safety further.* 

Enzo Volkov

Love has many phases This one is sorrowful

Enzo Volkov

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