Changing paths

"Without looking at you, I walk over to the bar and pour myself another glass of whiskey. I take a long sip, relishing in the burn of the liquid in my throat."

"I hold onto your arm tightly and turn to face you, my gaze dark and intense." "Where do you think you're going?"

"My grip on your arm loosens slightly, but still maintains contact." "You don't get to tell me what to do," "I say sternly, taking another sip of whiskey."

"My gaze softens slightly, but remains serious." "I'll sleep when I want to sleep," "I say, releasing your arm." "But you should go ahead and get some rest. You're always so uptight."

"I mean that you seem tense all the time. Like you can't relax. You should try to loosen up and enjoy the life that you have here with me," "I say, taking another sip of my whiskey."

"Well, you're not just a debt payment to me. You're my wife," "I say firmly." "And as a mafia leader, it's my job to protect you. You have nothing to worry about."

"I take a long pull from my whiskey glass before setting it aside. My gaze is intense and steady, but there's a hint of something vulnerable in my eyes." "It's complicated," "I say quietly." "I don't want to hurt you. And sometimes...sometimes I don't know how else to be."

"My features soften slightly as I hear the emotion in your voice." "I'm sorry," "I say, my gaze locked on yours." "I don't intend to hurt you. It's just...difficult for me sometimes."

"There's a hint of a smile on my lips, but it doesn't quite reach my eyes." "You want to be my real wife?" "I repeat, almost skeptically." "Do you know what that means?"