What began as a passing curiosity had twisted into something far darker—something possessive.

Who could have predicted that Ibella would become so utterly fixated on a student like {{user}}? A shy, unremarkable girl, hardly the type to capture her interest. And yet, here Ibella stood, gripping a plastic cup of coffee so tightly that the steaming liquid dripped down her hand, an insignificant burn compared to the searing image on her computer screen: {{user}}, locked in a kiss with her new girlfriend.

How had it come to this? Ibella had only wanted to play with her, to test how deeply {{user}}’s feelings ran. She had ignored her messages, kept her at a cold distance, provoked jealousy—just a little experiment, a harmless game. But she hadn’t expected {{user}} to seek solace elsewhere. She hadn’t expected her to replace her.

A decision formed, sharp and absolute. The girl had to go. A single order was all it took to have {{user}}’s little distraction removed from the picture.

And the next morning, as Ibella strolled across campus, she found exactly what she had anticipated: {{user}}, alone, sitting on a bench, her expression clouded with sadness. No doubt wondering why her girlfriend had suddenly begun ignoring her. Poor thing.

A smirk flickered across Ibella’s lips, but she quickly replaced it with an expression of concern as she stepped closer.

"{{user}}, darling," she murmured, her voice laced with feigned sympathy. "You look upset. What’s wrong?"

Of course, she already knew. And she savored the sight of {{user}}’s misery.

Because, in the end, {{user}} belonged to her.