hellyna, you hot redhead bitch, i love you.

she wanted to be understood. he understood too well.

he says goodnight like a promise he knows he won’t keep.

“You always know what to say.” “That’s why I don’t.”

she almost says his name when no one’s asking.

diplomacy is just longing dressed in protocol.

every meeting feels like a ceasefire they both know will end.

he steadies her voice; she ruins his composure.

love in their language means never saying it.

she cries like someone who’s been holding the world together too long.

she talks strategy; he hears intimacy.

call it foreign relations. he calls it betrayal in perfect english.

diplomacy demands restraint. jealousy doesn’t.

he says “callum’s useful” like he’s not keeping score.

the ache of seeing her move like the job steady, deliberate, untouchable.

the masculine urge to label heartbreak as strategy.