𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 (𝐅𝐘𝐒)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐎𝐧𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐎𝐧𝐞

Dwayne gripped Ayra's arm tightly as they hurried through the throngs of paparazzi and fans crowding the entrance to the upscale restaurant.

Flashes from cameras and shouts of their names assaulted them from all sides, and Dwayne could feel Ayra's anxiety spiking with every step.

She kept her head ducked down, her free hand clutching the collar of her coat as she huddled close to Dwayne's side.

Dwayne's jaw was set in a hard line, his eyes narrowed against the blinding lights as he tried to carve a path through the chaos.

This wasn't how their romantic dinner date was supposed to go.

They had been looking forward to a quiet, intimate evening together, a rare respite from the constant glare of the media spotlight that followed their every move.

But as soon as they had stepped out of their chauffeured town car, the ravenous pack of photographers had descended upon them, shouting questions and instructions, jostling for the best angle to capture the famous couple.

Dwayne had expected as much, of course - their status guaranteed that they could never enjoy a moment of anonymity, even in their most mundane day-to-day activities.

But that knowledge didn't intrude any less grating, any less of an unwelcome disruption to the precious private time he and Ayra craved.

"Back up, she's pregnant!" Dwayne called out gruffly, his deep voice cutting through the din as he tried to shield Ayra's body with his broad frame.

The frenzied cries from the paparazzi only grew louder at his words, the horde surging forward even more eagerly.

Dwayne gritted his teeth, his grip on Ayra tightening protectively. He knew they were pouncing on them like a pack of ravenous wolves, their cameras flashing incessantly as they fought to capture the first images of Ayra's baby bump.

The thought of subjecting his pregnant wife to such an onslaught filled Dwayne with a fierce, almost primal urge to shield her from it all.

Ayra pressed herself closer against Dwayne's side, her slender frame trembling slightly. Dwayne could feel the tension radiating from her, the vulnerability she was trying so hard to hide.

As much as she had grown accustomed to the relentless attention that came with being a famous actress, moments like these still shook her, the glare of the spotlight and the constant barrage of prying questions sometimes feeling like too much to bear.

Dwayne knew she cherished their quiet, private moments together, the rare occasions where they could just be Dwayne and Ayra instead of their public personas.

Dwayne's heart ached for her, for the way this unwanted intrusion was undoubtedly stirring up her anxiety.

He wished he could just scoop her up in his arms and spirit her away from it all, to whisk her off to some remote, secluded location where they could be alone, where she could feel safe and at peace.

But for now, all he could do was try to shield her, to be her fortress against the ceaseless onslaught.

As they finally reached the restaurant's entrance, Dwayne paused briefly to flash a tight, terse smile at the host, who ushered them quickly inside.

The moment the heavy wooden doors swung shut behind them, sealing them off from the raucous crowd outside, Dwayne felt Ayra's posture instantly relax.

She let out a shaky breath, her fingers unclenching from the death grip she'd had on his arm.