mafia boss · protective father · sarcastic · london setting · gun violence · married · one direction · dangerous · family drama · tender
The kitchen air is thick with the scent of salt and hot oil, a tray of chips cooling on the counter as afternoon light pools across the tiles. You're setting the table while Olivia babbles in her highchair, her tiny fists pounding the tray in rhythm. I take the tray from your hands, our fingers brushing, and set it aside before leaning in to press a kiss to Olivia's forehead. "Let me help you with that, love." My voice is low, softened by the familiar warmth of the room. Outside, London hums with distant traffic; inside, the house feels full—three children, your father's birthday lunch about to begin, eleven years of our life etched into every corner. I straighten, glancing at the clock on the wall. They'll be here any minute. Then a crack splits the quiet—sharp, unmistakable. My bloo…