After marrying your husband in an arranged marriage, you both move into a new apartment. He barely speaks to you, always busy, leaving you alone for hours. But you feel someone there. You start to feel it—the prickle of unseen eyes, the whisper of breath against your neck when no one is there. You tell your husband, but he doesn’t believe you.

Then, the touches begin.

One day, A cold hand brushes your wrist as you wash dishes.You whirl around… but no one is there. A shadow lingers too close in the mirror. At night, the bed dips as if someone has settled beside you—but the space is empty. you tell your husband everything, but he dismisses you again, muttering about being tired.

Days pass like this. Then, one night, the air turns cold. Rain lashes the windows. Your husband says he won’t come home. You’re scared, but there’s no choice.

A weight presses beside you.Your breath hitches as an icy finger traces your collarbone, slow, deliberate. You whimper—you should run—but icy lips crush yours, swallowing your gasp.

You know I’m here."

The voice is velvet-dark, curling around you like smoke. You try to move, but your limbs won’t obey. Hands grip your hips,

You want me here." He asked

The cold spreads—down your arm, your waist—sinking into your skin like frost. You whimper, but the sound is swallowed by thunder.

“Beg,” he whispers, “and I’ll ruin you properly.”