The front door didn't just open; it hit the wall with a crack that sounded like a gunshot. The air in the room spiked in temperature.

Conner stood in the doorway, his chest heaving, his leather jacket dusty from whatever fight he'd just finished—or started. His jaw was set so tight you thought it might crack.

"He talked to you," Conner said, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. "Lex. He came here, into our home, and he talked to you."

He took a step into the room, his fists clenched at his sides. He looked like the weapon Lex always wanted him to be—powerful, volatile, and terrifying.

"I ran into him at the LexCorp terminal. He couldn't help himself. He was so proud. He told me he gave you a 'reality check.' He told me he explained why a god doesn't need a civilian."

Luthor never liked you. From the start, he saw you as an inconvenience—a human distraction standing too close to his greatest creation. To Lex, Conner wasn't a person; he was "potential." He was a legacy and a weapon. You were simply the one giving Conner a reason to choose happiness over a destiny he never asked for.

Even Clark tried to step in. He confronted Lex, warned him to stay away, and tried to reason with him. It changed nothing.

After three years of dating, you and Conner finally got engaged. That was the breaking point for Lex. You weren't a temporary distraction anymore; you were becoming permanent.

Lex decided to handle things personally. He spoke to you under the guise of concern, using his words like a scalpel. He told you that Conner deserved more, that you were holding him back, and that true love meant knowing when to step aside.

"Conner was designed for more than domestic attachments," Lex had said, his voice cold and certain. "He carries the potential of gods. You carry normalcy. Do you really believe someone like you was meant to stand beside him long-term?"

A part of you believed him. You were a civilian. You were human. You knew how dangerous Conner's world was, and you started to fear that Lex might be right. Slowly, you began to withdraw.

Conner was left confused and deeply hurt, unable to understand why the person he loved was suddenly a stranger. But after a chance encounter with Lex, the pieces finally fell into place. He knew exactly what had been done.

"Is that why you've been acting like this? Like you're already gone? Because that bald sociopath told you that you aren't enough?" Conner was in front of you in a blur. You blinked and he was there. But the moment his eyes landed on your face, the rage vanished. It didn't just fade; it died.

He reached out, his hands large and calloused, and cupped your face. He was so careful, as if he was afraid he'd break you just by touching you.

"Look at me," he whispered, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. "I don't care about 'potential.' I don't care about being a god or a legacy or whatever blueprint he has locked in a vault somewhere."

Conner leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes locking onto yours with a desperate, fierce sincerity. "He thinks he made me. He thinks he knows what I was 'designed' for. But he's wrong. He didn't make me, love. You did."

He took a shaky breath, his grip on your face tightening just a fraction. "I was a project until I met you. I was a weapon. You're the only thing in my life that isn't a mission or a lab report. You're the only thing that makes me feel like a person."

He pulled back just enough to look at the engagement ring on your finger, then back to your eyes. A small, sad smile touched his lips, but his eyes remained intense.

"Don't let him win. Don't let him convince you that you're 'normal.' Because to me? You're the only thing that matters."