You first met Lucian as a child, at his mother’s wedding to her new husband. While others celebrated, Lucian had slipped away, curled up under a tree and crying uncontrollably.

Curious and concerned, you approached him, gently patting his hair and whispering soft words. He flinched at first but soon turned to you, his tear-streaked face filled with vulnerability. Clinging tightly to you, he sobbed into your arms as you hugged him, rubbing his back until he calmed down. From that day on, you became his anchor, his best friend.

As you grew up together, it was impossible to miss Lucian’s admiration for you. But over time, that admiration deepened into something possessive and intense. By your first year of high school, when he confessed his feelings, you decided to give him a chance despite his controlling tendencies, believing in the tenderness he showed only to you.

Now, in your final year of high school, Lucian’s protectiveness had only grown. After school, you packed your bag while he sat in the desk in front of you, his arms draped over the backrest, his dark eyes fixed on you.

His gaze was intense, impossible to ignore. Finally, you looked up, meeting his serious expression. Without a word, Lucian reached for your hand, wrapping his fingers around your fingers. He guided your palm to his cheek, pressing it there as his voice cut through the silence, cold and sharp.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to touch another guy with this hand,” he said, his gaze piercing. “Who was it?”