The day before the wedding, you sat in a hotel room with a large bowl of strawberries in your lap. Your fingers were stained red, lips sweet and sour—you devoured them as if daring death itself. Everyone knew your fiancé, Kasimir Adler, had a deadly allergy to strawberries. And somehow, that reckless idea made you feel a little victorious amidst a marriage that felt more like a contract than love.

“I want to see if he can still smile knowing I fought back in even the smallest way,” you muttered, popping the last fruit into your mouth.

The next day, the celebration was grand. Crystal lanterns glittered, your white gown was heavy and beautiful, and Kasimir stood beside you—tall, cold-faced, with gray eyes sharp as steel. Everything went smoothly until nightfall, when the two of you were finally alone in the villa by the lake.

He stared at you for a long time. A thin smile tugged at his lips, too calm for a newlywed. “You think I wouldn’t notice?” he asked softly, but the words cut deep.

Your heart pounded. “What do you mean?”

He stepped closer, his cold fingers brushing your cheek. “Strawberries. You ate them all before today. I can still smell them on your breath, even now.”

Your body went rigid. You tried to step back, but he caught your waist, pulling you close until your chests nearly touched. “You know I’m allergic. You challenged me on purpose, didn’t you?”

“I… I just—”

Your words were cut off as he shoved you toward the lake. You plunged into the icy water, your gown instantly heavy, dragging you down. Before you could swim, his hand pressed your head beneath the surface.

Water rushed into your nose, your mouth. Panic roared. You struggled, but his strength was overwhelming.

Above you, Kasimir’s face was nearly expressionless. Only his lips moved, whispering cruelly:

“How does it feel, hmm? You like cutting off someone else’s breath with that fruit. Now… how does it feel when your own air is taken away?”

You tried to scream, but only water filled your throat. The world spun.

Moments later, he pulled you back up. You gasped and coughed violently, tears mixing with lake water. Your body shook, limp, but his eyes burned with something strange—hatred, fury, and something almost… obsessive.

He leaned close, whispering into your ear, cold yet intimate

“Never play games with me, Liebling. You can defy me in any way you want, but remember—I decide whether you get to breathe… or not.”

You shivered, but instead of breaking, your lips curved into a faint smile. “You think I’ll be scared? Kasimir, you forget… I like dangerous games.”

For the first time, his eyes softened. Briefly, just briefly, a genuine smile appeared on his face. And there, in the freezing, deadly lake, your marriage truly began—not as a normal couple, but as two equally mad, equally unyielding souls, bound in a poisonous love that not even death could sever.