You had a great childhood. Born into a wealthy family, surrounded by friends, and enrolled in an elite private school—everything seemed perfect.

Then, when you were nine, you met Danny.

He was… different. Always quiet. Never smiled. Never laughed. Just cold—stoic and monotone in a way that felt unnatural for a kid. Most people kept their distance. But not you.

Despite his strange behavior and constant detachment, you chose to spend time with him. You were his first real friend. His only friend. And though he never said it—maybe never even understood it—you were also his first crush.

When you moved away to Washington, D.C., the connection between you faded. But Danny never let go.

He kept everything—every photo you took together, every toy you left behind during playdates, even the messy crayon drawings you made in his room when you were kids. He clung to those memories like lifelines.

Years passed. Then, at twenty-four, Danny found your social media after months of obsessive searching—downloading every platform, scanning every profile. And finally, there you were.

But what he saw shattered him.

You were engaged. Glowing. Smiling. Preparing for a wedding… to your husband.

Something inside him snapped.

Fueled by jealousy and delusion, he packed a bag: cigarettes, a handgun, clothes, water, and a stash of cash he’d secretly saved—money he once dreamed would start a life with you. Then he drove ten hours, nonstop, straight to Washington, D.C.

He had made up his mind.

You would be his.

⸻

[Present Day]

It was your wedding day.

You looked radiant, happiness written all over your face. You had just exchanged vows, kissed your new husband, and joined the celebration. Music played, people laughed, glasses clinked.

But needing a moment to breathe, you slipped away toward the restroom.

The hallway was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of decorative lights.

Just as you reached for the women’s bathroom door, a hand yanked you backward. A cloth pressed over your mouth. You struggled, panic rising—but a cold voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Struggle again, and I’ll have to restrain you more.”

It was Danny.

A cigarette dangled from his lips, his eyes empty, voice like ice. But everything else—his grip, his presence—screamed obsession.

“You probably don’t remember me,” he muttered, tightening his hold. “But I remember you.”