"What's that red mark on your neck, hija?" Uncle Dominic's voice cut through the silence. 
The question caught me off guard, causing me to falter in my response. How could I explain the passionate imprints left by Denver's fervent kisses? Uncle Dominic, or Mr. Galvosa as he was known, cast a discerning gaze upon me, his eyes sharp and inquisitive. I could feel his piercing scrutiny, and it sent a wave of unease washing over me. We sat together on a serene morning, the air filled with a sense of anticipation, as if the world held its breath in anticipation of our conversation. 
"Uh..." I stammered, my mind racing to find a suitable explanation. The weight of guilt and longing danced within me. "Just mosquito bites, uncle," I managed to utter, my voice trembling slightly.
Uncle Dominic's piercing gaze lingered, his eyes betraying a flicker of suspicion that sent a shiver down my spine. His concern masked with curiosity. "Oh, you should take care of yourself while you're here," he advised, his voice laced with a mix of genuine concern and veiled inquiry.
I nodded, my eyes cast downward as I resumed my meal. The Galvosa mansion had become my safe place, a refuge where I sought solace and recovery after the harrowing tragedy that had left me in a coma. 
The doctor, who happened to be a friend of Denver's and a servant of the Galvosa family, had orchestrated my stay here, ensuring I received the best care possible. And Denver had taken on the role of my unwavering caretaker and always by my side.
The memories of the bombing massacre still haunted me, shrouded in a haze of confusion and unanswered questions. Denver had protected me from the gruesome details, keeping me in the dark about the full extent of the tragedy. Even Daniel and Kian had become distant, their absence adding to the mounting weight of uncertainty that burdened my heart. But Denver, like a locked vault, kept the truth concealed, his reluctance evident whenever I ventured to ask deeper. 
As we sat in the elegant dining room, a sense of familiarity washed over me.
"Are you and Denver close?" 
Uncle Dominic's sudden question pierced the air, catching me off guard. I met his gaze with a soft smile, my eyes reflecting the unspoken bond that bound Denver and me. 
"Yes, uncle," I replied, my voice carrying a hint of wistfulness. "He's my... ex-husband."
“I see.” I can feel sudden irritation with that two words. “That's why he's clingier than ever.”
I absentmindedly scratched at my eyeshadow, the truth of Uncle Dominic's words lingering in my mind. It was undeniable that Denver's attention was always on me. He wanted to be by my side.
"He's kinda childish, uncle," I chuckled, the sound carrying a blend of affection and amusement. 
Uncle Dominic nodded, and the simple gesture bore a striking resemblance to my father. It was this familiar presence that brought me comfort, an unspoken understanding that turned him into a father figure in my eyes. Calling him Uncle Dominic had become second nature, a testament to the bond that had formed between us.
"Velasquez wasn't like that before," he began, his tone hinting at a hidden tale waiting to be unraveled. "He was stoic and serious, but upon returning back here, he became a changed man. I never knew this side of him."
Curiosity brimmed within me, and I couldn't help but inquire further. "Do you know anything about Denver, uncle?" I asked, my voice tinged with anticipation.
Uncle Dominic's gaze softened, memories flickering in his eyes as he recalled a shared history. "I was his teacher during his formative years, particularly in the realm of martial arts," he revealed. "Aside from my profession, he was like a son to me. His father brought him to me for training."
As his words washed over me, the missing pieces of Denver's life began to slot into place. There were parts of him that remained elusive to me, shrouded in mystery, and this newfound knowledge added yet another layer to the enigma that was Denver Velasquez.
"I never expected him to be that lonely, uncle," I confessed, my voice carrying a shy vulnerability. "I've always known him to be incredibly mysterious."
A flicker of annoyance colored Uncle Dominic's voice as he responded, his protective instincts coming to the fore. "If I were your father, I wouldn't have allowed him to marry you. I know his history with girls. I don't trust him with you," he admitted, his words laced with a mix of concern and caution. "He's a playboy."
My heart skipped a beat, and though I tried to maintain composure, the impact of his words reverberated within me. "I-I don't hold his past against him, uncle," I stammered, my voice betraying a hint of vulnerability. "It's in the past."
As I grappled with the weight of Uncle Dominic's reservations, I couldn't deny the lingering doubts that threatened to cloud my perception of Denver. Yet, amidst the uncertainty, a spark of hope flickered within me, a belief that people could change, that love had the power to transform even the most wayward of hearts.
Denver entered the room, his muscular form glistening with beads of sweat trailed down his sculpted shoulders, accentuating the contours of his physique. Without a shirt, he exuded an air of confident strength, his abs rippling tantalizingly, begging to be admired. I couldn't help but steal a glance, captivated by the raw magnetism he exuded.
Just as my gaze lingered a moment too long, a cough broke the spell, and I quickly averted my eyes, heat rushing to my cheeks. It felt as though all eyes were on me, and the implication of the remark left no room for doubt. I was the one being distracted, caught in the gravitational pull of Denver's undeniable allure.
"Are you finished?" Mr. Galvosa's voice cut through the tension, his tone firm and authoritative. "Change into your new shirt. You're distracting someone."
I could feel my blush deepening as the weight of his words settled upon me. But before I could fully recover from my embarrassment, Denver's presence materialized behind me, his warm breath caressing my cheek as his lips brushed against my skin. The sensation sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help but blush even more, feeling the warmth spread across my face.
"You're so cute, wife," he whispered, his voice laced with adoration and mischief.
Uncle Dominic's voice interjected with a warning tone, his protectiveness surfacing once again. "No touching, Velasquez," he warned. "Sharmienne told me you're already her ex-husband. You manipulative liar."
I turned my gaze to Denver, my eyes widened with surprise. The smirk on his lips belied a flicker of something more intense in his smoldering gray eyes. It was as if a dormant fire had been ignited, his gaze penetrating mine with a mix of determination and desire.
"I didn't even sign the papers. It was all complete bullsh*t," he declared, his voice filled with a mixture of frustration and defiance.
My breath caught in my throat at his confession, my eyes locked onto his, searching for the truth in his words. It left me momentarily stunned as the implications of his statement sending ripples of uncertainty through my mind.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked, my confusion palpable. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, stirring a whirlwind of emotions within me. "Does it mean we're not annulled?"
Denver's eyes bore into mine, a mix of sadness and longing. His voice quivered with a hint of vulnerability as he posed the question that echoed through the room. "You really want to leave me, huh?"
My heart clenched at his words, understanding the depth of his fear and insecurity. This was not what I had intended, yet the consequences of my actions were unraveling before my eyes.
"That's not what I mean—" I began, my voice laced with a tinge of desperation, but he cut me off before I could explain further.
"I'll go upstairs," he murmured, his steps carrying him away from the room, leaving a void in his wake.
The silence that followed was broken by the sigh that escaped Uncle Dominic's lips. His gaze followed Denver's retreat, and a sense of melancholy settled upon him.
"He has become fragile when it comes to you, Sharmienne," Uncle Dominic said. "You are his Achilles' heel. Let him ponder the situation because your departure has left a lasting mark on his heart."
I cast a glance in the direction Denver had vanished, a pang of guilt gnawing at my conscience. It struck me then, with a profound realization, that his reluctance to sign the annulment papers stemmed from a place of deep pain. The thought that my actions had caused him such anguish sent waves of remorse crashing over me.
I was torn between my sense of duty and the undeniable love that had blossomed between us. The weight of my priorities loomed large, centered around seeking justice for my cousins, but it was entangled with the web of emotions that connected me to Denver.
Guilt settled heavily within me as I grappled with the choices I had made. I loved him, of that there was no doubt, yet my determination to fulfill my goals threatened to overshadow our happiness. Sacrifice seemed inevitable, as I wrestled with the conflicting desires of my heart and the pursuit of justice.
"You both need to talk this out, hija. Communication is key in times of misunderstanding," Uncle Dominic advised. His words resonated with me, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the turmoil that engulfed my heart.
"Yes, uncle," I replied. Despite his stern demeanor in front of others, I knew that Uncle Dominic possessed a compassionate side. It was a quality I deeply appreciated.
As night fell, I found peace in wandering through the halls of the mansion as my footsteps echoing softly against the decor. The interior design captivated my senses, a delicate blend of medieval elegance and timeless beauty. Each room, the exquisite detail, seemed to hold familiarity, reminding me of the place I once called home.
Amidst my exploration, I couldn't help but reflect on my recovery. Weeks spent battling the aftermath of the gunshot wounds that had pierced my back. It was a testament to my resilience and the unwavering strength of my spirit that I had emerged from the clutches of darkness, breathing in the air of life once more.
Yet, alongside my physical recovery, a relentless curiosity burned within me. I yearned to uncover the truth, to delve into the events that had transpired during my coma. But my resources were limited, and the uncertainty loomed large. It became clear that I needed to reach out to my family, to Kian and Daniel, for they held the missing pieces of the puzzle.
Contemplation consumed my thoughts as I weighed the importance of talking to Denver. Should I share my innermost thoughts, my doubts, or should I first focus on bridging the gap of misunderstanding that had driven a wedge between us? The desire to ease the turmoil within my mind pushed me toward resolution, but I knew that patience and careful consideration were vital in restoring our bond.
My gaze shifted, drawn to the room next to mine, the room that belonged to Denver. It had become a place where his warmth enveloped me, offering peace in moments of vulnerability. The flickering light emanating from within stopped me. Someone else was present, and curiosity ignited within me, urging me to come further.
Stepping closer, I silenced my footsteps, aching to catch a glimpse of Denver, to engage him in conversation if he was indeed inside. But my eavesdropping came to an abrupt halt when I heard my name uttered from within the room, Denver's voice tinged with restraint and irritation.
"I need the report, Liam," he said, his tone laced with frustration. "The Master won't even let me near my wife, damn it."
The words hung in the air, leaving me bewildered and curious. Questions swirled within my mind, demanding answers, and a mix of emotions surged through me. Denver's actions held hidden depths and complexities that remained unresolved.
My curiosity piqued, I found myself rooted to the spot, yearning to catch more of their conversation. My focus honed in on the door, but before I could position myself properly, the entrance swung open, nearly toppling me over. A surge of panic coursed through me, but just in the nick of time, strong arms reached out and saved me from an embarrassing tumble.
"What on earth were you doing?" he inquired, his warm breath tantalizingly grazing my left ear. "You would have taken quite a fall if I hadn't caught you."
"Th-thank you," I stammered, feeling a flutter of excitement dance in my stomach as Denver's grip around my waist tightened. His touch was gentle, yet firm, as his fingers traced delicate circles on my back.
"Step inside," he whispered softly, guiding me forward with a tender hold on my hand. Even though his grasp wasn't overpowering, it sent shivers down my spine. Involuntarily, I noticed myself trembling slightly. "Why are you shivering? Are you cold?"
His concern enveloped me like a comforting embrace, stirring a mix of emotions within. The warmth of his voice caressed my senses, igniting a spark that threatened to consume me entirely.
The word hung heavy in the air, slipping hesitantly from my lips. "No."
A flicker of confusion crossed his face, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Then what's the problem?" he probed, his voice laced with a mixture of concern and intrigue. 
Yielding to the unspoken invitation, we found ourselves nestled on his bed. Leaning forward, he gracefully lowered himself to the floor, gently easing off my slippers. Heat surged to my cheeks as a faint soreness, born from my venturesome escapades, pulsed through my weary feet.
"N-nothing," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, unable to meet his penetrating gaze.
An eyebrow arched inquisitively, his eyes filled with a hint of mischief, before he redirected his attention to my feet. The weight of his gaze focused solely on what he's doing, each stroke of his skillful touch instilling a comforting ease within me. Overwhelmed by the sheer bliss that coursed through my body, I surrendered to the profound sensations, my eyes fluttering closed. A small gasp of pleasure escaped my lips, betraying the depth of my surrender.
In that stolen moment, I dared to open my eyes, only to find his intense gray orbs already fixed upon me. His gaze ignited a fire within me, a tantalizing dance between desire and uncertainty. "Sleep with me tonight," he uttered, his words hanging in the air like an unspoken promise.
"B-but Uncle sai—" I began to protest, my voice trailing off as the weight of his unwavering stare bore down on me.
"I don't care, Sharmienne," he declared with unwavering resolve as the final strokes of his foot massage bringing our intimate moment to a close. Rising to his feet, he positioned himself by my side, the air thick with an electrifying tension that crackled between us.
"We should rest, Denver," I whispered, a tremor of vulnerability lacing my words as I instinctively pulled the comforter over my body. Without hesitation, he nestled close, enfolding me in his powerful arms, the scent of his natural scent mingling with the intoxicating smell of his expensive perfume.
"I know why you're here," he murmured, his voice was husky and as if flirting with me. "It was no mere coincidence, my wife."
I turned to face him, my heart pounding in my chest, and nodded gently, my guilt hanging in the charged silence between us. His gaze bore into mine, his head resting upon his hand, his face angled toward me as if he was searching for answers.
"Shhh..." he hushed me, a finger tenderly pressed against my quivering lips. 
The wellspring of emotion threatened to overwhelm me as he leaned forward, his lips tenderly brushing softly against my forehead. With a gentle embrace, he enveloped me in his arms providing peace from the storm of emotions swirling within me. Desire coursed through my veins, compelling me to wrap my arms around his broad frame, to seek refuge in his warmth and strength.
But just as I moved to embrace him, an abrupt stiffness seized me as my gaze fell upon the calendar hanging near the door. Dread washed over me as I realized that tomorrow, May 6, marked the anniversary of the tragic event that had shattered our lives exactly four years ago.