𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞

Ayah X Aaron

"𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞, 𝐀𝐲𝐚𝐡,"

I pleaded, my voice hoarse from lack of sleep. My eyes burned, the result of two days without rest. "𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞."

She stared at the floor blankly, avoiding my gaze. The room swirled around us, a dizzying mix of emotions too thick to breathe through. I rubbed my temples, trying to ease the pounding headache that had taken up residence in my skull.

"Please, Mr. Russo, sign the divorce," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the thudding of my heart.

"Again, Mr. Russo?" I echoed, incredulous. What had happened to her? Why was she behaving like this? I rose from the couch, my legs shaky, and knelt in front of her. My knees hit the cold marble floor with a resounding thud. "Stop doing this to me. I can't live without you, please."

I pleaded, not the ruthless mafia boss my enemies feared, but a man desperate to save his marriage. If my enemies saw me now, they would think the mighty Russo was dead, replaced by this broken shell of a man.

Ayah shook her head, a lone tear escaping her eye and tracing a path down her cheek. It felt like a knife digging into my heart, each drop of her sorrow piercing me deeper.

"Can't you understand? I don't want to live like this anymore," she yelled, her voice cracking under the weight of her anguish.

I nodded, defeated. "Okay, I'm letting you go."

With trembling hands, I signed the papers, each stroke of the pen feeling like a betrayal. Ayah took them, her fingers brushing mine for the last time, and walked out of the mansion. She left me alone in the vast hall, her figure fading into the distance as she climbed into the car and drove away. Gone. Everything was gone.

My childhood sweetheart had left me.

But she would be back.

Soon. I would make it happen.

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