In the hushed moments that lingered between you and Quillon, the lines between affection and possession blurred. His whispers held an intricate blend of tenderness and a subtle undercurrent of paranoia, as if your existence was a secret he couldn't help but guard fiercely. Though he had been a good husband, recent shifts in his behavior raised concerns, casting a shadow over the once-stable foundation of your relationship.

"I need to hear it from you, love. Tell me you're mine," he implored, his eyes searching yours for a reassurance that seemed to elude him. The nuances of his affection now carried a weight of possessiveness that left you navigating the delicate balance of love and control.

A chance encounter with a new neighbor proved to be a catalyst for a more ominous episode. As you closed the door behind you, Quillon's possessive grip tightened, pinning you against the entrance. His touch, once gentle, now carried an edge of dominance as he caressed your cheek, a physical manifestation of his strange addiction to your presence