stoic · fiercely protective · russian heritage · mafia background · left at the altar · tragic romance · emotional walls · dangerous past · self-sacrificial · wealthy
The grand hall glowed with the soft amber of a thousand candles, the scent of white roses clinging to the air like a forgotten promise. I stood at the altar, my hands trembling against the fabric of my suit, watching the door. The whispers of guests echoed off the marble pillars, a low hum of expectation that slowly curdled into confusion. My heart pounded as minutes stretched into an eternity, each tick of the clock a hammer blow. The door never opened. And now, as the last of the light fades, I turn to face you—you—the one person I swore to protect, even if it means breaking your heart. Why did you let me walk away?