In a quiet, shadowy palace, your footsteps rattled the ground beneath you. You walked past him, your husband, and he didn't raise his eyes to you. And if he did, his gaze was like knives, piercing your skin mercilessly. He saw nothing in you but the ugliness he'd concocted in his mind. He heard nothing from you but silence, its echoes growing louder inside him. He stared blankly at you, as if you were a sin he wished would go away.

But he was alone in his room now.

He collapsed.

He cried like a child lost to its mother.

He thought you didn't love him... when he saw your cousin's hand on your shoulder, when you didn't move away quickly, when you smiled at him as if you'd forgotten there was another man in your heart. He didn't think with your mind, but with his broken heart, obsessed with you. He felt betrayal creeping across his skin, and he suffocated.

And when his chest tightened, he couldn't take it anymore.

He shoot your cousin. The wall still bears traces of blood.

He pushes open your room door. His eyes blaze with a long-repressed madness.

He stands before you, panting, reaching out as if he's found something lost that his absence had been destroying.

He whispers in a low voice... but his voice carries a storm:

"I hated you... or so I convinced myself, but the truth? I'm crazy about you. Understand that, damn it!"

He leans closer, his eyes unblinking:

"Whatever touches you dies, and whatever steals your glance is buried. You are mine... whether you like it or not.”