Love ?°•°•°

(A/n) : ‼️Dark situation, angst, mention of violence, if you're not comfortable with these kind of things then pass this oneshot, anyway, read it at your own risk. You were warned.‼️

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The idea of the scenario :

Zayd was a pretty violent man, even to [Y/n] whom he 'loved' and was obsessed with.

The oneshot :

The grand dining room of Zayd's estate was a masterpiece of wealth and power, every detail designed to intimidate.

High ceilings adorned with intricate moldings, walls lined with priceless art and a sprawling mahogany table that could seat 20 but tonight seated just 2.

At the head sat Zayd himself, an Italian Mafia boss feared and respected by all who knew him. His presence was as commanding as ever, his tailored suit crisp and flawless, but his face betrayed the storm raging inside him.

[Y/n] sat at his right, her beauty radiant even in the midst of tension. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face that seemed too delicate for the darkness of her life.

Her eyes darted to Zayd, reading his mood with the precision born of years of survival. She knew tonight was going to be one of those nights. The bad days, when he came home carrying the weight of bloodshed and betrayal, were always the worst.

Dinner was quiet at first, the clinking of cutlery against fine china the only sound between them. Zayd's silence was deafening, his jaw tight, his dark eyes fixed on his plate.

[Y/n] toyed with her food, glancing at him nervously. She hated this version of him– the cold, brooding man who seemed on the verge of exploding. But she hated the silence more.

"Are you going to sit there all night and pretend I'm not here ?" She finally asked, her voice soft but sharp enough to cut through the tension.

His eyes flicked up to meet hers and for a moment, she regretted speaking. His gaze was like a blade, sharp and unyielding.

"Not now, [Y/n]", he muttered, his voice low and dangerous.

"Not now ?" She repeated, her temper flaring despite her better judgment. "That's all you ever say, Zayd. 'Not now'. But when ? When do I get to know what's going on in that head of yours ? Or am I just supposed to sit here, silent and pretty, while you drown yourself in anger and whiskey ?"

His hand tightened around his glass of scotch, the amber liquid trembling under his grip. "I said not now", he growled, his tone dripping with warning.

But [Y/n], fiery and stubborn as ever, refused to back down. "You think you can keep shutting me out ? I'm your wife, Zayd ! Not one of your men who'll just nod and say, 'Yes, boss'. I deserve better than this– better than you when you're like this !"

The words struck a nerve, igniting the volatile mix of rage and frustration bubbling inside him. He slammed his glass down, the force sending it toppling over and spilling across the table. The sharp sound made her flinch, but she didn't move from her seat.

"Careful, [Y/n]", he hissed, rising from his chair. His tall, imposing frame towered over her as he loomed closer. "You're walking on thin ice."

"And what happens when it breaks, huh ?" She shot back, standing to face him.

"You'll hit me ? Again ? Is that what you're good at now, Zayd ? Hurting the one person who actually loves you ?"

Her defiance was a spark in the powder keg of his temper. Before either of them realized what was happening, his hand shot out, striking her across the face. The sound of the slap echoed through the room, louder than the crash of his glass shattering on the floor.

She stumbled back, her hand flying to her cheek as tears sprang to her eyes. For a moment, the room was silent, save for the heavy breathing of the man who had just struck her and the shallow gasps of the woman who refused to cry in front of him.

He froze, his hand still raised, as the reality of what he'd done sank in. The rage drained from his face, replaced by horror and regret. "[Y/n]..." He choked out, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean—"

"Don't", she snapped, stepping back from him. Her voice shook but her eyes burned with fury and pain. "Don't you dare tell me you didn't mean it. You always mean it in the moment, Zayd. You just don't like how it feels afterward."

"I'm sorry", he whispered, his voice cracking as he reached for her. "Please, [Y/n], I—"

"Don't touch me !" She screamed, backing away further. Her hand still cradled her reddened cheek, and her tears now spilled freely. "You're sick, Zayd. You're a monster. And no amount of apologies will fix what you've done."

He dropped to his knees in front of her, his strong hands trembling as they reached out, begging. "I love you, [Y/n]. I swear I do. I'm just... I'm not myself sometimes. It's the stress, the business— it messes with my head."

She laughed bitterly, a sound filled with disbelief and heartbreak. "Don't you dare use that as an excuse. You think this life is easy for me ? You think I don't carry the weight of your sins every day ? But I don't lash out. I don't hurt you."

He looked up at her, his dark eyes glassy with tears. "I'll change. I swear to God, [Y/n], I'll change. Just... don't leave me. I can't lose you. You're all I have."

She stared down at him, her heart breaking for the man she once believed in. But that love, that hope, was buried beneath layers of fear and resentment.

"Then prove it", she said finally, her voice cold. "Because if this ever happens again, Zayd, I swear I'll be gone. And you won't find me."

With that, she turned and walked out of the room, leaving him kneeling on the floor, broken and defeated. He sat there for what felt like hours, staring at the shattered glass and spilled scotch on the floor.

Later that night, Zayd found her in their bedroom. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to the door. Her long hair spilled over her shoulders, hiding her face, but he could see the faint tremor in her hands as she gripped the hem of her robe.

"[Y/n]", he said softly, his voice hoarse. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "Please, can we talk ?"

She didn't respond, didn't even look at him. The silence felt heavier than any argument.

He walked closer, stopping just a few feet from her. "I know I hurt you", he said, his voice trembling. "And I'll never forgive myself for that. But I... I need you to know how much I love you. I know I don't show it the way I should, but you're the only thing keeping me sane, [Y/n]. You're the only good thing I have."

She turned to him then, her [e/c] eyes red-rimmed and brimming with tears. "And what am I supposed to do with that, Zayd ? You say I'm your everything, but you treat me like nothing."

He sank to his knees before her, taking her hands in his. His grip was gentle, his touch trembling.

"I'll fix it. I'll fix me. I'll do whatever it takes, my [Y/n]. Therapy, walking away from the business— anything. Just don't leave me. I can't lose you."

Her gaze softened for a moment, but the hurt was still there, raw and deep. She pulled her hands away, standing and moving toward the window. "You can't fix this with promises, Zayd. Not anymore."

He stayed kneeling on the floor, watching her silhouette against the moonlight. For the first time in his life, Zayd– the man who ruled with an iron fist and struck fear into his enemies– felt powerless.

And for the first time, he realized that the war he had to fight wasn't out there. It was inside him.

But as he held her hand that night, kissing her bruised cheek with trembling lips, both of them knew that promises were fragile things in a world as dark as his. And love, twisted as it was, would only carry them so far.

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(A/n) : girl, if your man ever lift a hand over you, just burn him, show him that for hitting you, he'll burn like that in hell too for eternity. No need to thank me for this incredible solution. You're welcome 🤗.

See ya ! 💋