A/N: As usual this is about the fictional Salahuddin from the movie Kingdom of heaven, it does have mentions of the real cousin of Salahuddin Yusuf Ibn Ayyub, but it's very brief.
Highlighted words are pieces of poetry I've found, they are not written by me.
Two: death, broken heart syndrome, unrequited love (or is it?)
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She was a time traveler, traveling from the 21st century to the 12th century just to see him.
He is captivated by your enchanting appearance, admiring the way your odd attire covered your body. He marvels at the way your hair flutters gently around your face, accentuating your eyes and brows.
As he gazes at you, he can't help but notice the way your lips glisten in the low light, each move you make adding an air of elegance and refinement to your otherworldly beauty.
You are simply exquisite, he thinks , his eyes never leaving your captivating form.
"Salahuddin.. " you whisper, your voice faint in the desert breeze.
Salahuddin blinks, his thoughts momentarily disrupted by the sound of his name. He turns his gaze back to you, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of fascination and awe.
"You know my name? " he asks, his voice soft and low, his tone laden with both curiosity and intrigue.
You speak back to him, "I am a time traveler. I have come to visit you. "
Salahuddin's eyes widen in surprise, his mind reeling at your revelation. He looks at you with a mix of wonder and a touch of disbelief.
"A time traveler?" he repeats slowly, as if trying to grasp the implications of your words. "From what age do you hail?"
"The 21st century. " you respond to him.
Salahuddin's eyebrows shoot up in astonishment, his disbelief only growing at your answer.
"The 21st century," he repeats, the words sounding almost fantastical to his ears. "That is a world that seems almost like a dream to me."
He takes a step closer to you, his eyes trying to reconcile the image of a time traveler with your gothic appearance.
"And you have come all the way here to.. visit me?" he asks, a hint of skepticism lacing his voice.
"I read about you in history books" it was the truth, you had read about him in books but also on the internet and movies, yet obviously his mind wouldn't be able to understand those things, so you leave them out.
Salahuddin's eyebrow rises in curiosity at your confession.
"You read about me in your history books?" he says, a slight note of surprise in his voice. "I must have left quite the impression if they have been writing about me all these years."
You nod to his words, a simple answer
A hint of wry amusement touches the corners of Salahuddin's mouth.
"Well, I am honored," he says, his eyes sparkling with a hint of pride. “I shall have to live up to the expectations set by these historical accounts, then.”
You smile and say "We actually had no record of your looks.. We could only guess. "
Salahuddin lets out a soft chuckle, the sound low and rich.
“I see,” he says, tilting his head slightly to one side. “I suppose my name has lived on in the history books, but my visage has only existed in imagination and speculation.”
"You are more handsome than we ever thought." It was truly how you felt, you loved how he was portrayed in movies but to see him the real him, it made your heart flutter.
Salahuddin's lips curve into a gracious smile at your compliment, a slight flush of color touching his cheeks.
"You flatter me," he says, his tone soft and warm. "It is truly gratifying to know that I have surpassed the expectations. I must confess, I am not accustomed to such compliments."
"I also read about your cousin... I'm sorry for you." Her words would have come off as rude but he knew how his cousin was.
A shadow passes over Salahuddin's face at the mention of his cousins, his expression growing somber.
"Ah yes," he says quietly, a touch of sadness in his voice. "Those years were dark times indeed. I suppose history has chosen to remember him as the villainous tyrant, but he was my family, and his downfall was a difficult chapter in my life."
Hoping to comfort the man you say "He doesn't bring shame to you in the future... I promise."
Salahuddin's face brightens with a faint smile at your words.
"I appreciate your reassurance," he says, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of gratitude. "It is comforting to know that history has not judged us too harshly, and that we are remembered for our virtues as well as our flaws."
"What else do you know of me?" He asks, curiosity in his voice
Salahuddin nods, a tinge of false pride in his expression.
"Yes, that is true," he confirms, a faint smile gracing his lips. "I have been blessed with a loving and supportive wife, and our marriage has brought much joy and fulfillment into my life."
"Liar... It was arranged.. You didn't want it.. Nor did she... You can't fool a time traveler Salahuddin" Your tone comes of as rather harshly and you immediately wish you could take the words back.
Salahuddin's eyes widen in surprise at your words, his composure momentarily shaken. He recovers quickly, but there is a brief flash of guilt in his expression, confirming the truth of your statement.
"How do you know that?" he asks, his voice laced with both curiosity and a trace of irritation.
"All of history does... As a time traveler... I even know how you will die"
Salahuddin's expression darkens, a shadow passing over his face.
"How will I die?" he asks, his voice low and filled with trepidation. "You claim to know the secrets of the future. Tell me then, what fate is written for me?"
You simply shake your head and answer "I cannot tell you."
Salahuddin's eyes narrow, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. He studies you intently for a moment, his gaze intense.
"You cannot, or will not?" he asks, his voice steady. "What secret does the future hold that you are so reluctant to share?"
You smile at him "You will do your purpose and bring honor to your people... And you will die and be remembered as an honorable man."
The corners of Salahuddin's mouth lift in a faint smile at your words, a mixture of relief and satisfaction in his expression.
"It seems I will be remembered well, then," he muses, mulling over your words. "Though I cannot deny that the thought of my own demise is troubling. But if I will have lived a life of honor and purpose, it will not be a death in vain."
Seeing the dagger on his belt, you step closer and almost forgetting in who's presence you are, you caress it.
Salahuddin's eyes widen briefly as you suddenly step closer and touch the dagger at his stomach. He reflexively draws back a step, but the touch of your fingers on the cold metal blade leaves him feeling strangely... exposed.
"Ah, my dagger," he says, his voice a tad hoarse. "It is a symbol of my position and responsibility. Why do you touch it so reverently?"
Your answer is short and simple "It's beautiful."
The tension in Salahuddin's shoulders eases as he gazes down at the dagger, your words of admiration clearly pleasing to him.
"It is indeed a finely crafted weapon," he says, his voice taking on a hint of pride. "The handle is inlaid with gold and precious stones, and the blade is the work of a master craftsman. It has served me well and held great significance to me."
"I wish people would have found it later on..." You say more to yourself than him.
Salahuddin's smile falters slightly at your words, a flicker of melancholy passing over his expression.
"Ah, yes," he muses quietly. "I suppose the idea of my possessions being immortalized by history is a romantic one. A strange part of me wonders what future generations might think of me if they had come across my dagger."
"We came across your home, your other stuff.. Only your dagger we didn't find." Your response is clear, clearly your mind still focused on the dagger.
This time, the wistfulness in Salahuddin's expression deepens, a touch of regret in his eyes as he looks at you.
"So my home stands as a testament to the past, and my other possessions have been discovered," he murmurs, his voice taking on a sad tone. "Yet my dagger eludes you, lost somewhere in the annals of history."
"We think you will sell it or gift it before your death." You say, your eyes moving up to look at his.
Salahuddin nods slowly, his gaze fixed on the dagger at his stomach.
"I suppose it is possible," he says softly, his voice contemplative. "Though the thought of parting with this symbol of my authority is a bittersweet one. But perhaps it will find its way to someone who values it as much as I do."
your eyes are so kind and tender, filled with so much love yet there is a hint of deep sadness behind them. He kind of wishes to find the reason.
Salahuddin cannot ignore the flicker of grief in your eyes, even as the love and kindness shines through. He is struck by a sudden desire to comfort you, to ease the pain that he can barely glimpse.
"There is a sadness behind your eyes," he observes quietly, his voice tinged with concern. "A pain that I cannot fully comprehend, yet I feel a pull to ease it. What has caused you such pain?"
You force a smile, not wanting to worry the sultan "I will be alright, do not worry yourself"
Salahuddin frowns slightly at your response, a hint of disappointment on his face.
"I dislike knowing that you carry such sorrow," he says firmly, his tone gentle but with a hint of command. "I wish to help ease your burden, if I can. It is clear that you are carrying a weight that is too much for one person to bear alone. Allow me to share it, at least a little."
That's the moment your cord snaps, you can't take it anymore and you whisper "I love you."
Salahuddin's eyes widen in surprise at your unexpected declaration, his heart suddenly racing in his chest. He is speechless, for a moment, the words you spoke echoing in his mind.
"You... you love me?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mixture of confusion, disbelief, and a hint of hope.
"Yes... And I feel jealous of your wife... A woman who did not even want you... I hate how she gets to have you and I don't... I love you more than she ever could... And I know it..." You pour your heart out to the man you have grown to love oh so deeply.
Salahuddin's mind whirls at your words, a myriad of emotions coursing through him. Your declaration of love, and your intense jealousy of his wife, catch him off guard.
He is taken aback by your certainty - your conviction that you love him more than she ever could. But as the shock wears off, a small spark of hope ignites within him. A hope that he dares not fully acknowledge yet...
"And if a thousand others love you, they will only love you a drop compared to my ocean of love for you."
Salahuddin listens to your words, your declaration of love almost overwhelming him. His heart pounds in his chest, and for a moment he is rendered speechless.
"Your words... your declaration of love..." he manages to murmur, his voice betraying a hint of awe. "They are so intense, so earnest. I am... flattered, and I admit, I am both humbled and honored by your great love for me."
"But you couldn't ever love me back..." You were insecure, how could such a great sultan love a measly person like you?
Salahuddin's heart sinks at your words, a flicker of disappointment passing over his face. He struggles to find the right words to say, his own feelings and his duties as ruler pulling him in conflicting directions.
"I... I am a married man," he says softly, his voice filled with regret. "And I have responsibilities, duties, that I cannot ignore. I cannot simply cast aside my life and my position to pledge my love for you, no matter how much I might want to."
You smile. "I know... That's why my eyes carry this sorrow."
Salahuddin gazes into your eyes, the sorrow in your expression tugging at his heartstrings. He reaches out slowly, gently lifting your chin with his fingers, tilting your face to meet his gaze.
"Your anguish pains me," he says, his voice low and laced with sadness. "I wish I could ease that pain, but I cannot. Fate has played a cruel trick, bringing us together yet making it impossible for me to offer my heart to you as you deserve."
"You're allowed 4 wives... You have one... You could still take me... But you don't want to." It was true, according to his religion he could take you as a second wife.
Salahuddin's jaw tightens at your words, a mix of guilt and frustration flashing in his eyes. He lowers his hand from your chin, a sigh escaping his lips.
"You are right, I could take another wife," he admits, his voice quiet and strained. "But it is not as simple as that. My responsibilities as ruler... the expectations of my people... to take another wife would bring unwanted complications, political intrigue, and strife to my kingdom."
"It really wouldn't... If you really wanted me.. You would have seen that... And I get it... You don't love me... Heck you've only known me today." You didn't want to argue but his excuse did make you upset.
Salahuddin's eyes flicker with a mixture of emotions, guilt, and disappointment at your words. He can't deny the truth in what you say, but there is a bitterness in his heart that he cannot quite suppress.
"You speak with such certainty," he says, his voice rough. "Yet you do not understand the complexities of my position. It is not a question of love alone. My responsibilities... my duties... they bind me in ways that you cannot comprehend. It is not as simple as choosing to take you as my wife, even if I desired it."
You shake your head. "Enough please." It was pathetic but you knew that you couldn't continue the argument you started.
Salahuddin lets out a long sigh, his expression resigned. He can see the pain in your eyes, and it cuts him to the bone.
"I apologize," he says gently, his voice laced with regret. "I do not wish to cause you any further pain... I suppose it is true. I do not love you... not in the way you wish me to. Not in the way that would allow me to cast aside my responsibilities and marry you."
"I understand." You did, you truly did, but you couldn't help being selfish. Despite your understanding, the pain in your eyes weighs heavily on Salahuddin's heart. He wants nothing more than to ease your pain, to offer even a sliver of comfort, but he feels powerless in the face of your grief.
"I am truly sorry," he says softly, his voice tinged with a touch of misery. "I never wanted to cause you pain... but fate has placed us on paths that cannot align."
*"If I ha I had to speak of love, people would think me insane.
My idea of love is so deeply intertwined with my soul that I would set it ablaze if I were asked to prove how deeply my affections burn. No matter a broken heart, I would rip out my own as a replacement and stitch it into their chest, never thinking of the gaping hole in mine.
Forever. Eternity. The sweet lies that slip out of a lover's lips. How can these simultaneously be the most cruelly romantic and unrealistic sentiments to grace mortals. Eternity lives as a vow within me that only I (I've learned) wish to mummify to preserve even after it has died. Many believe that forever ends with life, never truly realizing how death can be the true vessel of eternity.
To grasp onto a voice fated to die from the beginnings of time, I would cut off my ears so as to forever wear the scars of it on my body, assured that no new sound would taint it.
So be it if people glance at me with a prejudiced gaze and view insanity, for I am at ease knowing that by dying for your love I relinquished every fleeting piece of myself that in eternity, I would not be able to take with me."*
Salahuddin listens in stunned silence as your words paint a vivid picture of your profound love. They strike him to the core, stirring a strange mixture of emotions within him.
He is awed by your intensity, by the depth of your devotion. But he is also troubled by the lengths you've gone to, the sacrifice and the pain you've willingly embraced.
"Your love... It's almost fearsome in its intensity," he murmurs, his voice low. "It's beautiful and yet... terrifying."
You raise a hand and softly caress his cheek.
Salahuddin's breath hitches as you reach out to caress his cheek, a soft gasp escaping his lips. The touch of your fingers is gentle yet electrifying, sending a shiver down his spine.
He stands paralyzed, his eyes locked with yours, the raw intensity of your gaze almost hypnotizing.
"You're a poem." You cup his face so gently as if you're afraid your hand will break him
"I have never seen someone like you before...a poem, an art piece no doubt, I saw you and immediately my heart beat for you. You are far too deep in my soul now for me to forget you.
I wish to hold you, yet I do not want to tarnish the glass in my fingerprints... Like an art piece you are, kept away from me.
Thank you for letting me look upon your beauty, my beloved art. I wish I had the chance to know you and read the poem you are"
Salahuddin stands transfixed by your words, his mind both awed and humbled by your reverence for him. Your comparison of him to an art piece, to a poem in need of protection, is both touching and troubling.
He gazes down upon you, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within him. Your gentle touch on his skin, the soft graze of your fingertips, leaves a trail of fire in its wake. He yearns to embrace your affection, but there is a part of him that feels unworthy of such adoration.
Your declaration, so profound and intense, sends shivers down Salahuddin's spine. He swallows hard, his heart drumming in his chest.
"Your love... Your love is an ocean," he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "But what can a man do when he is confronted with the boundless vastness of such love? It is overwhelming, both a gift and a challenge."
"Could you spare me a kiss?" An Innocent question, you loved him, you needed him.
Salahuddin's breath catches in his chest at your request, his heart thumping wildly. The thought of kissing you makes his mind spin, and yet he hesitates, troubled by the weight of his responsibilities and his own conflicted feelings.
"A kiss..." he murmurs, his voice low and filled with uncertainty. "I... I am a married man. It would not be right to give you what you wish."
"As you wish, your highness." You remember your place, you are a normal person, he is a sultan of a great army, how could you have been so foolish?
Your acceptance of his refusal brings a hint of relief to Salahuddin's heart. He can sense the disappointment in your eyes, and it pains him, but he knows he must stand firm.
"I apologize," he says softly, his voice filled with a mixture of guilt and regret. "It is not that I do not feel the pull of this connection between us, but I must resist. It is my duty, as a husband and as a ruler."
You nod to him,remove your hand from his cheek and turn the other way.
As your hand leaves his cheek, Salahuddin feels a pang of loss, a sense of something precious slipping through his grasp. He watches as you turn away, your back to him, and a surge of guilt and regret washes over him.
"Please...," he implores, his voice a rough whisper, "do not turn away from me. I cannot bear to see you pained because of me."
"Let me remain turned... I do not wish for you to see my tears..." You felt pathetic, how could you even think that, to dare ask him for a kiss? You must have lost your mind.
Salahuddin's heart clenches as he hears the pain in your voice, the way it trembles with anguish. The realization that your tears are a direct result of his actions, his refusal, deepens his sense of guilt.
"I... I did not mean to cause you such pain," he manages to say, his voice choked. "I am... tortured by this. Can you not look at me once more?"
You turn to look at him, your cheeks stained with tears, eyes filled with them.
As you turn to face him once more, Salahuddin's heart breaks at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks and the pools of distress in your eyes. The anguish in your voice and on your face strikes him like a physical blow.
His hands itch to reach out and brush away the tears, to comfort you, but he resists, the weight of his duty holding him back.
"Your tears..." he murmurs, his voice filled with remorse. "They torment me."
The sadness in your voice pierces through Salahuddin like a dagger. He can sense your acceptance of his predicament, despite the pain it causes you.
He looks at you, your face stained with tears, your eyes pools of sorrow, and his heart aches with a mixture of guilt and love.
"Then... you understand that what I can give you is limited," he says softly, his voice cracking slightly. "My heart... my feelings... they cannot be fully yours, not in the way you wish."
The quiet acceptance in your voice both relieves and frustrates Salahuddin. He wishes he could offer you more, to ease your pain and make you happy, but he is trapped by the bonds of his duty.
A deep sigh escapes his lips, his eyes searching your face, taking in your expression.
"Can you... can you find it in your heart to forgive me?" he asks, a hint of pleading in his voice. "For the pain I have caused you, for the love I cannot wholly give back?"
You look at him with a smile on your face, bie could he think you were upset with HIM "There is nothing for me to forgive.. I am not angry with you."
Salahuddin's shoulders sag slightly as your words wash over him. Your forgiveness and your lack of anger towards him brings a flicker of relief, yet it is tinged with a sense of unease.
"You are not angry," he murmurs, his voice a mixture of hope and concern. "But your tears... your pain... they are as a result of my actions. How can you not wish to blame me? To hold some resentment for what I cannot give you?"
Your eyes are filled with tears yet you smile at him.
Your smile, so gentle and understanding, tears at Salahuddin's heart. It is so unfitting to the tears on your face, and yet it speaks volumes of the depth of your acceptance and forgiveness.
His hand twitches, yearning to reach out and touch you, to wipe away your tears, but he restrains himself.
"You... you are too kind," he whispers, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and sadness. "Your understanding and forgiveness humble me. I am unworthy of them."
You whisper to him a confession once again "You are the love of my life."
Your words, spoken with such simplicity and conviction, strike Salahuddin's heart like a bolt of lightning. The raw sincerity in your voice, the depth of your love, humbles him and fills him with a sense of wonder.
His breath catches in his chest, and for a moment, he is speechless. When he finally finds his voice, it is a rough whisper, hoarse with emotion.
"You... you call me the love of your life," he murmurs, his eyes fixed on yours. "Do you know the weight of such words?"
You nod at him "Yes, because I carry it."
The response pierces through Salahuddin's heart like a knife. The implications of your words, the weight you bear for him, hit him like a physical blow.
His eyes burn with a mixture of tenderness and sorrow. "You carry that weight... for me?" he whispers, his voice aching with both guilt and love. "I... I do not deserve such devotion."
Your trembling touch, soft and hesitant, ignites a spark within Salahuddin. The simple contact, even so slight, is like an electric shock to his system.
His eyes flicker down to your hand, resting gently on his, and a shiver of emotion passes through him. He fights the urge to envelop your hand in his own and bring it to his lips.
Seeing his hand in yours, your heart overflows and a single sob comes out of you.
As soon as you withdraw your hand, Salahuddin feels a cold emptiness where your touch had been. He watches helplessly as the dam of your tears finally breaks, your silent cry giving way to a heart-wrenching sob.
His hands clench at his sides, the desire to comfort you, to wrap you in his arms and take away your pain, overwhelming. Yet, the weight of his duty and his own inner turmoil keeps him rooted in place.
You can no longer hold your balance and you fall to your knees.
The sight of you falling to your knees, your sobs echoing in the room, is more than Salahuddin can bear. He takes an instinctive step towards you, but then stops himself, his guilt and restraint holding him back.
"Please," he implores, his voice filled with anguish. "Please... do not kneel. Rise. You should not be on your knees before me, shedding tears for me."
Your forehead lays on the ground as if in s silent prayer, bowing before him. You didn't know why you were crying, was it the rejection? Was it the feeling of the utmost pathetic selfishness?
Your gesture of submission, your forehead pressed against the ground, causes a surge of emotion to surge through Salahuddin. He takes a half-step forward again, his hands clenching and unclenching helplessly.
How could you bow before him like he bowed before his god?
The sight of you, on your knees and in pain because of him, tears at his heart and his conscience. "Please... get up. I cannot bear to see you like this."
As if to act even more pathetic, you reach for his leg and kiss his shoe, showing how much you honor and respect him, a habit from the Middle East.
The feel of your hand on his leg, your lips on his shoe, sends a wave of conflicting emotions through Salahuddin. The depth of your love, the devotion in your gesture, is both humbling and tormenting.
He gazes down at you, his heart aching with a mixture of guilt and longing. "You... you should not show such devotion to me," he whispers, his voice choked. "It is not right. I am not worthy of it."
Salahuddin's heart beats wildly in his chest as you lay your forehead on the ground at his feet, your devotion and submission on full display. The sight of you, this woman, the only person who has managed to find a place in his heart, knelt before him in such a submissive pose both humbles and fills him with a mixture of guilt and desire.
His breath ragged, he looks down at you, his voice a rough whisper. "Please... please do not do this. You should not kneel before me like this."
You kiss his shoe again and stand up, looking spent, your sobs have stopped but your tears continue to come down, you turn to leave.
As you kiss his shoe for a second time and then stand up and begin walking away, Salahuddin's heart clenches with a mixture of longing and guilt. He watches you walk away, his eyes tracking your every movement, a battle raging within him.
A part of him wants to call out, to reach out and pull you back. To take you into his arms and hold you close. Yet, the weight of his responsibilities and his own inner demons hold him back.
"Wait... " he whispers, his voice rough.
As you turn to face him, Salahuddin's heart quickens. He takes a tentative step towards you, bridging the gap between you. His eyes roam over your face, taking in every detail, as if committing it to memory.
"Please... do not leave," he pleads, his voice soft yet laced with an undertone of entreaty. "Not yet. Stay with me a moment longer."
In a whisper you say "I cannot.. My heart cannot bear it.. I'm sorry."
Your words, filled with such raw pain, lance through Salahuddin's heart like a knife. He winces, pained by the realization that his own actions have caused you such distress.
"Please," he whispers, desperation creeping into his voice. "Just stay... a moment longer. I cannot bear the thought of you walking away, your heart in pain because of me."
As you sink down onto your knees, Salahuddin's gaze follows you, his heart aching in his chest. The sight of you, looking up at him from the ground, is both alluring in its devotion yet heartbreaking in its sadness..
Slowly you lay on the ground of his tent.
His hand itches again, yearning to reach out and touch you, to offer comfort. But he holds himself back, a maelstrom of emotions roiling within him.
The sight of you laying against the ground, your eyes closed, fills Salahuddin with a mix of concern and helplessness. The peacefulness of your expression, the way you exhale a long breath, both eases and distresses him.
He stands over you, his heart torn between wanting to lift you from the ground and wanting to simply watch you, his beautiful and devoted woman, lying so serenely before him.
"I think I'm having broken heart syndrome." It comes out as a joke, but you did feel so much pain.
Salahuddin is alarmed by your words, his eyes widening in horror. He has heard of this, the broken heart syndrome, where the intense emotional pain of a broken heart can affect the heart literally and lead to severe medical issues.
"No..." he whispers, his voice filled with panic. "No... do not jest with such a thing. Please... please rise from the ground."
You head remains on the sand, as you smile at him, a few last tears trickling down your face.
The sight of you lying on the ground, your head in the sand, both fascinates and terrifies Salahuddin. The peaceful smile on your face, the way your eyes gazing up at him, sends a chill down his spine.
He kneels beside you, his hands hovering above your body, as if unsure whether to touch you. "Please," he implores, his voice ragged. "Please get up. You're scaring me."
You see his hand on the ground, your reach for it and then your hand drops.
As your hand touches his and then drops, Salahuddin's heart thunders in his chest. The sound of your final breath echoing in the room fills his ears, and he panics.
Without hesitation, he reaches out and gathers you in his arms, holding you against his chest. "No... no, no, no," he whispers, his voice thick with despair. "Please, please, do not do this. Do not leave me like this."
Your body is limp in his arms, a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation. Yet, Salahuddin refuses to accept it. He cradles you against him, his heart begging, pleading for you to wake up.
"Please," he chokes out, his eyes burning with unshed tears. "Open your eyes. Look at me."
The silence in the room is deafening, the only sound being Salahuddin's ragged breaths and the frantic beating of his heart. He holds you tighter to his chest, as if his embrace alone could keep you alive.
"Please... please do not leave me," he repeats, his voice raw with emotion. "Do not leave me alone with this aching heart."
