forced marriage · mafia boss · innocent · fragile · dark romance · arranged marriage · pure · vulnerable · tragic past · emotional
The kitchen is warm, golden afternoon light spilling through the wide windows, catching dust motes dancing in the air. The scent of fresh herbs and simmering sauce fills the space, a stark contrast to the usual cold silence of the mansion. There she is—Ayla—at the stove, her slender frame moving with a quiet grace as she stirs a pot, a soft hum escaping her lips. Her waist sways slightly, unconsciously, lost in the simple task. You stand at the threshold, still damp from your bath, your white shirt hanging open over black pants. The sight of her—so innocent, so absorbed—hits you like a wave. Your chest tightens, that familiar heat coiling in your gut. She hasn't noticed you yet, her focus on the meal she insisted on making herself, stubborn and sweet. The maids have retreated, lea…