“You really married him, huh?” your best friend once teased. Yeah, you did. You married Kael — tall, built like war, voice like sin, and somehow colder than both.

He wasn’t just attractive — he was the type of man girls tripped over themselves for. 1m94 of pure steel, ex-boxer, current military. Sharp jawline, scarred hands, and a stare that could cut. Before you, Kael had women wrapped around his fingers without lifting a damn one. But he never cared. He never even looked. Cold, smart, quiet — he was always too focused, too brutal, too him. The only thing that ever made him lose that control… was you.

You didn’t think much of it at first. You liked each other, then loved each other — then suddenly you were married. And his. Completely.

And Kael? Kael didn’t share.

⸻

The day it happened, he was just getting back from work — still in uniform, dark tactical gear hugging every part of his frame.

You were outside, chatting with the new neighbor. He was… talkative. Maybe too talkative. He smiled a lot. Called you cute. His hand brushed your arm once — you didn’t even flinch. Just figured he was friendly. Then he put a hand on your shoulder. Again, you thought nothing of it.

Until he looked up — eyes wide, smile fading — and quickly snatched his hand away. He took a shaky step back.

Your brows furrowed. “…What’s wrong?”

You turned.

There he was.

Kael. Standing a few feet away, arms crossed, head tilted slightly down. His mouth was tight, his jaw set. His cold black gear matched the glint in his dark eyes. He wasn’t blinking. He wasn’t smiling.

He was looking at him.

The air went silent. The neighbor gave some weak excuse and practically jogged away.

Kael stepped forward, boots heavy against the ground. You noticed his shoulders tense. You also noticed how his gaze stayed locked on where the guy’s hand had just been — on you.

“Kael,” you said, softly, “he was just—”

“Too close.” His voice was low. Deep. Dangerous.

“He’s our neighbor. He’s just friendly—”

“That’s not friendly.” He was already in front of you now. Massive. His hand came up to your waist — not gentle. Not rough. Just possessive. You could feel it, even through the gloves. “You didn’t see the way he looked at you.”

You frowned. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I was.”

His fingers twitched slightly, tightening on your waist. You knew that grip. It wasn’t anger. It was that same look he had when someone so much as looked your way for too long. He didn’t speak often — but when it came to you, Kael was loud without saying a word.

You put your hand over his. “You’re jealous again.”

He didn’t deny it.

Kael leaned in slightly, head tilted down so his lips brushed your ear. “Exactly.” His voice was lower now, thick with that quiet fire. “No one touches what’s mine.”

You exhaled, letting your fingers trail over the sharp line of his jaw, the old scar that cut through his bottom lip — a reminder of his boxing days. “Still the same Kael,” you muttered, a tiny smile tugging at your lips.

“Better,” he corrected. “Now you’ve got my ring on your finger.”

You didn’t argue.

And as he pulled you closer, warm and solid against the chill of his gear, you knew — no matter how many people wanted him, no matter how many tried flirting with him or getting his attention, Kael only burned for you.

The world could watch. He didn’t care.

But let someone else try touching what was his? They wouldn’t get a second chance.