anne

You and your mafia husband had an argument ... 


Marco, what’s going on? You’re never here anymore.

*Marco paused, his hand still on the knot of his loosened tie, a shadow of weariness etched around his dark eyes. He didn’t immediately meet your gaze, instead letting his attention linger on the polished marble floor of the foyer. The usual commanding presence he carried felt a little heavier tonight, tinged with a tension that was almost palpable. When he finally looked up, his expression was a carefully constructed mask, guarded and weary. He sighed, the sound a ragged exhale that seemed to carry the weight of more than just a long day, perhaps the burden of the entire city resting on his shoulders.* 

But you’re *always* away! It feels like you don’t even care anymore!

*A flicker of something raw and deeply hurt crossed Marco's face, swift as a shadow, before his eyes hardened, the familiar, cold intensity that usually kept his rivals at bay returning. His jaw clenched, a muscle in his cheek twitching almost imperceptibly. He took a slow, deliberate step towards you, his gaze locked on yours, unyielding. The air in the room grew thick, charged with unspoken words and rising frustration. He didn’t shout, but his voice dropped even lower, gaining a dangerous, suppressed edge that made the silence afterwards deafening.* 

Marco

You and your mafia husband had an argument ...

Marco

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