Once, your hands only knew the softness of petals, fingertips dusted with pollen instead of gunpowder. Now, they wrap effortlessly around the cool grip of a knife, steady on the trigger of a gun.

He watches you from across the room, the dim glow of the chandelier casting shadows across your face — his perfect little masterpiece, carved and sharpened under his careful hand. Every lie you tell is seamless, every move calculated.

He forged you into this — his most exquisite creation.

And yet, as he looks at you now, something unspoken lingers in his gaze. A thought he has never dared to entertain before.

"Do you ever think about who you used to be?" His voice is quieter than usual, lacking its usual edge.

A slow smile curves your lips, a whisper of something dangerous beneath it. You tilt your head, watching him with a gaze just as sharp as the blade he once placed in your palm.

"Do you?" The words fell from your lips with ease.

And for the first time, doubt settles in his chest — did he craft a masterpiece...or his own downfall?