"Do you love me?" Ali asked.

Anaya didn't budge.

"Do you love me?" She asked.

"Yes, my dear. I am in love with you." Ali said with no hesitation.

Anaya sat still, speechless, her face baring no expression.

"I-" She started.

"I- want to say the same, I do-" she paused, closing her eyes, and taking a breath.

"-But I am scared of you." She said.

"I will never hurt you, Anaya. You can count on me for that-"

"But you've hurt other people." She began

"You've killed before. You have killed someone before." She said.

"No matter how hard I try, I can't forget that. I am an elementary school teacher, my job is to take care of small kids and all my life I have been completely harmless and normal, and you- you took me.. and you showed me the things that I never even had nightmares about. Your family took my father, and then you married me for my inheritance," She went on

"I was kidnapped. And I know I am not crazy for taking a second to think about who and what I am falling in love with."

"I don't know you. I don't know who you are, what made you who you are, but I know the things you are capable of and that frightens me." She said, taking a pause.

"I'm not... I'm not trying to hurt you, I promise you I am not." She said tear pooling in her eyes, her hand making way to his cheek to cup it. His heart raced at the gesture, as he focused on her words.

"I can tell you I love you. Because I think I do, but I think I am in love with the idea of you, In love with your gestures, and your courage. But I don't know who you are on the inside, and I am afraid- because I want to stay by your side, but I also know you're dangerous, and your life is dangerous, and I don't want to stay in this house locked up all my life being worried I'll die if I leave-" She stopped, and put her face in her hands, crying.

"I am sorry, I said too much. I am an idiot," she said.

"Hey-" He said, taking her hands off her face, and pulling her head to his chest. They stayed in their position for a long minute, trying to catch their breath.

"Thank you." He said, his tone very low.

"What?" She asked.

"For being honest. It's quite rare." He chuckled,

She sat up straight, looking at his face to find a hint of anger or anything, really. But his face held no emotion, he was just still.

"You're not mad?"

"No, of course not. I understand." He said, getting up.

"Give me some time," He said.

There was a long pause in silence, the silence felt so loud. Anaya hated the seconds that passed where not a single word was muttered as if she had ruined the peaceful atmosphere.

"Okay," Anaya whispered.

He looked at her for a brief moment, before walking away without another word.

"No... no, no, no" Anaya said to herself after she heard the front door close.

"What did you do." She said.

It had to be said. Her conscious said.

Ali got into his car, driving to nowhere. The car was soundless but his thoughts were loud. He was just steeping on the gas pedal, and taking whatever turns- it didn't matter because he wasn't paying any attention to the route. He wasn't angry, no. He just needed some time, a minute to think about what's next, to think about all that she said.

"I don't know who you are." Her words rang.

"You've literally killed someone before."

"You married me for my inheritance"

Was she wrong? No. Not. As a matter of fact, Ali was proud, proud that she was able to speak her mind.

But how could he explain to her who he was? Even he didn't know, he never looked at himself, or thought of what even happened to him to make him the way he is, all his life he found distractions, he made himself numb so he can accept the destiny his father forced on him.

He didn't want to. He wanted to be normal, like Anaya. He wanted to be at peace, without a single knot in his chest, without hatred in his heart, and without blood on his hands.

After all, he made sure, he made sure he didn't kill who didn't deserve to be dead, and he followed the rules the Mafia gave him, because he had nowhere else to go, and you can blame him for doing what he has done because that's what he was raised to do. He tried, he started a company, on his own- so maybe just maybe he could be normal, maybe he could create himself a new identity. But he was bound, he couldn't leave.

So who was he? And how will he unravel himself to Anaya? How was he supposed to make her stay?

His jaw clenched and unclenched as he drove down the long road, forests on both sides of his car. His car ringed a bell, and he looked down next to the speed meter. It was an orange alert, telling him he is running out of gas.

"Fuck!" He punches his wheel.

He slowed the car and took a u-turn right where he was, driving back to as close to a city as he can before he ran out of gas.

His mind couldn't stop running. He was having anxiety for the first time in quite a while. It was as if his heart was yelling at him something is wrong. He was scared, scared that she was going to leave him, like everyone. She might not have said it, but he knew. He was scared he was going to lose the best thing that has ever happened to him.

"This is so unfair," He muttered.

He could feel a lump in his throat, he was angry. Angry and upset, because it wasn't his fault. It wasn't who he was. He wasn't a murderer, he never wanted to be. This wasn't up to him, but who will ever understand that. He stepped on the gas pedal harder until the car slowed down on its own, eventually stopping.

Just when he thought his day couldn't go more wrong, a drop fell on his windshield, then another until it started to pour. The sky decided to correspond to his feelings.

He thought to himself he was just overreacting. But this was everything he wanted, and it was about to slip out of his hands, and with all the money or power in the world, he couldn't stop it from leaving.

His Anaya.

She wouldn't stay, she shouldn't stay. She was right. He was a murderer, a killer, a torturer, a villain. And it was too late to change that, and she didn't deserve to settle with someone who married her out of greed, who kidnapped her out of hatred and hurt her endlessly. She was too good. Too pure.

His memories flashed through him one by one. The darkness, the tears, the screams of adolescent old Ali, the bloodshed, the gunshots, the self-loathing, the loss, the anger, and the pain. The endless pain. It all came back to him, the sheer torture he was put through since the beginning of his life, his chest tightened, his temples throbbed.

What was happening to him?

He opened his car door, and under the pouring sky and in the middle of a two-way road, he fell to his knees. His eyes closed, as the water mixed with his fallen tears.