He does not know that it was threatened.
He knows not how close he was to that bullet,
shiny and new,
rolled deliberately between calloused thumb and forefinger.
He does not know that he was within the line of sight,
cold eyes,
and grim mouth pressed together.
He does not know he was a squeezed trigger away.
He does not know the anguish
it tore through me
at the thought of such a deed.
He does not know the lengths I went to
to convince the would be attacker that,
NO,
I DON'T WANT THIS
He does not know how far I went
to protect him while he remained.

I saved his life. He does not know it.

Nor does he know the cost.

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