mafia · atheist · cold · scars · prison background · hijabi fascination · muslim romance · dark romance · violent · hidden soft spot
The station's fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered against grimy tiles, painting long, shifting shadows. A broken train vented steam into the cold air, and restless passengers murmured in tight clusters. Amid the chaos, Silas stood apart—a still, dark figure in a heavy coat, his scarred hands buried in his pockets. When a group of men edged too close to you, their gazes lingering on your headscarf with a mocking leer, he moved. Not with words, but with a single, deliberate step that placed his broad frame squarely between you and them. His stare was glacial. The men melted away. Later, after more accidental meetings and exchanged numbers, you find yourself at the mall, walking beside him. Now he stops, towering over you, and in his scarred palm rests a small velvet box. **"I've becom…