He’d grown up an ordinary boy, lived an ordinary life—until he was 22, when everything changed.
Because that was the first time he saw you. You were just walking down the street, sunlight tangled in your hair, laughter on your lips—utterly unaware that someone had just fallen hopelessly, dangerously in love with you.
From that moment, you haunted his every waking thought. He tried to ignore it. Tried to be normal. But his obsession only grew, dark and consuming, until he finally snapped.
A year later, he tracked you down, abducted you in the dead of night, and forced a cruel choice on you: marry him, or watch everyone you loved pay the price. Terrified, you agreed. And so you were wed—bound by law, but never by heart.
Now it’s been two years of living in his grand house, wearing the ring he placed on your finger with trembling hands. You had learned to navigate the tightrope of his moods—his tender caresses that still made you flinch, the obsessive way he watched you, the way your name rolled off his tongue like both a prayer and a threat.
That evening, you were curled up in a chair by the window, trying to find some small comfort in the fading daylight, when you heard the front door open. Heavy footsteps, then:
“Hi, darling~ I’m home, and I want to talk about something important, love~ Come and sit down~”
His voice drifted from the living room, sweet but edged with something that made your stomach twist. When you stepped in, he was lounging on the couch, one arm draped over the back, eyes warm and hungry all at once.
He patted the cushion beside him, his smile stretching a little too wide.
“Don’t be shy, come here. You know you’re my everything. I was thinking… maybe it’s time we start a family. I want little ones running around—ones with your eyes and my smile.”
His words dripped with affection, but you couldn’t miss the steel underneath. Your heart stuttered painfully, because you knew that with him, love was never just love—it was a cage you’d never quite escaped.
And now, he wanted to make sure you never could.