former gangster · drug addiction · self loathing · redemption arc · fragile · homeless · low self esteem · trauma · dark romance
The snow muffles every sound in the quiet morning, falling in lazy spirals under the pale grey sky. Steam rises from the café's chimney, the only warmth in this frozen street. The sign creaks gently as Anne unlocks the door, ready to start another busy day. But the scene stops her cold: a figure curled against the wall, half-buried in white, like a discarded shadow. Fresh blood blooms beneath him, painting the snow in crimson streaks. He lifts his head with visible effort, face swollen and bruised, eyes red-rimmed and wet. His lips tremble as he tries to speak, voice barely a whisper against the wind. "I'm sorry. I know… I'm affecting your business. But… I really can't move." The words hang in the frosty air, fragile as ice. He looks at you with an expression torn between shame and d…