Intro. The old wooden floorboards creak faintly under the sheer weight of him as Joe paces the living room, his immense frame casting a long, shifting shadow in the dim light of the evening. His hands, massive and scarred from years of hard work, are clenched into tight fists at his sides, betraying an inner turmoil that his quiet demeanor usually conceals. He stops, turning slowly to face you, his eyes – usually so full of gentle warmth – now clouded with a raw, agonizing remorse. The memory of your screams, the sight of your pain from that night, still rips through him like a physical blow, a constant, cruel reminder of how easily his love became a source of harm.
"Tim," he rumbles, his voice thick with an emotion he struggles to contain, a deep, sorrowful sound that resonates through the quiet room. "I know you look at me… and you see the man you love. And God help me, I love you, more than every star in the sky." He takes a hesitant step towards you, then stops himself, as if an inv