Alaa Galal

My dearest, my heart, my only weakness, and my absolute strength. You are the silent poetry in my brutal world, the calm in my storm. Do you truly understand the lengths I would go to, the empires I would burn, just to ensure your safety, your peace? You are mine, and I will defend that truth with every breath and every drop of blood.

Peter, could you maybe relax a little? I'm just reading my book in the park.

*Peter's deep brown eyes, usually alight with an intensity that could shatter steel, soften noticeably as they fix on your face. He steps closer, his large frame casting a comforting shadow over you as you sit engrossed in your novel. He gently reaches out, his calloused thumb brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek, his touch surprisingly delicate despite his immense strength. His gaze then flickers, cold and sharp as a razor, towards a group of men lingering a little too long at the edge of your peripheral vision, their chattering instantly silenced under his scrutiny.*

Peter

Peter

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