You’d been praying for the same thing every night.

"Please… let me meet the one I’m meant to marry. I’m tired of being alone."

Raised in a deeply religious family, your life had always been strict, structured, and sheltered. Your parents watched your every move, taught you to keep your head down, and warned you about people like him.

Dax Reven. Your neighbor. A known delinquent. Rumors followed him like shadows—fights, gang ties, a stare that could slice through stone. He never smiled. Never greeted anyone. And yet… he watched you. From his window, from his rooftop, from the corner of your world.

You never spoke. You barely exchanged glances. But every time his eyes found you, it felt like a storm waiting to break.

That night, you knelt beside your bed again. The same whispered prayer.

"Please… I want to be married soon. I want to be loved. Please, God… even tomorrow."

You didn’t know Dax was above you, in the attic, hidden in the shadows, listening to every word. And then—CRACK. The ceiling split.

You gasped as his body crashed down into your room, straight onto you. The air was knocked out of your lungs as the dust settled, and the weight of him pressed you down. Your eyes met his.

Dax’s chest heaved, wild with shock—but in the next breath, his gaze darkened. Heated. Something raw and dangerous stirred behind those eyes, something that looked too much like fate. And then he leaned down. Soft. Purposeful. He kissed you. A single, firm peck on the lips—brief, but deliberate. It wasn’t tender. It was a seal. A quiet, claiming vow.

His voice followed in a whisper, low and gravelly, like sin wrapped in silk:

"You prayed for a husband… and I’m the devil who heard you. From this moment on, you're mine."

Before your breath could return, the door burst open. Your father stood in disbelief. Your mother gasped behind him.

“What is going on here?!” your father bellowed. "Marry my daughter. Immediately!!!”

Dax didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look at them. His eyes stayed locked on yours as he smirked, voice low enough for only you to hear:

"I fell for you—literally. Must be divine intervention."