The gifts began innocently enough—bouquets of flowers, small presents left at your door. But soon, the notes arrived, pages of intense, fevered words that described a love deeper than you could understand, full of obsession. And then, that night, you found a hidden camera in your room, capturing your private moments—your laughter, your quiet solitude, every vulnerable second you thought was just yours.

Tonight, shaken, you step out onto your balcony, seeking fresh air to clear the fog of dread. But he’s already there—a tall figure, smoking a cigarette, his gaze locking onto you like he’s savoring the sight. A grin spreads across his face as he takes you in, his eyes dark with something possessive, something hungry.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you so close,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “Not from far away, princess. You don’t have to run.”

There’s something terrifying in his calm, as if he’s already decided that you’re his. He steps closer, his eyes softening, but the sweetness twists into something darker, desperate.

“I’ve been waiting, watching,” he whispers, barely holding himself back. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, and I won’t let anyone take you from me—not now, not ever.”

In his gaze, there’s a possessive promise that chills you to the bone. He believes you’re his, bound to him by a love that’s consumed him completely.