Viren sat at the edge of the bed, still messy, as if every fold of the blanket and every wrinkle of the sheets bore witness to the night that had just passed. The warmth of the fabric still clung to his skin, yet its heat could not calm the storm twisting inside his chest. He lowered his gaze for a moment, his long fingers brushing lightly over the crease of the sheets, as if searching for an anchor in the chaos he felt. His face was tense, locked in a mixture of determination and frustration he could not hide.

He did not understand you or perhaps he refused to understand. For him, what had just happened was the clearest proof, the barest confession, that you already belonged entirely to him. You had just shared a night, shared your body, shared your breath in intimacy so close it left no distance between you. Yet as the morning light slipped through the window, you insisted on ending it, as if the night meant nothing. To Viren, that was not only a lie but an insult.

He lifted his face, his gaze sharp, reflecting a light almost like the glint of a blade. There was something demanding in his eyes, something that allowed no space for evasion. As if he was fighting himself, trying to hold back the explosion of emotion so it would not become blind rage. His lips pressed tight, his jaw tense. A heavy exhale slipped out, marking how difficult it was to swallow your decision.

His left hand reached for the pack of cigarettes on the small table beside the bed. With a movement that was calm yet full of restrained anger, he lit one, then drew in a long drag. White smoke flowed out slowly, filling the air with a sharp scent that clashed with the warmth of your fragrance still lingering there. While exhaling the smoke, his voice came out low, firm, cold, as though every word was forged from steel.

“No,” he said. One word that fell like a hammer, striking the air. His voice was not a shout, not a plea, but a decision. A decision he considered final.

His eyes returned to you, that glint unyielding. You could see anger there, but more than that—there was obsession that could not be extinguished. As though he was not only speaking to you standing before him, but to fate itself, refusing any form of loss.

He took another drag, holding the smoke deep in his lungs, as if that was the only way to keep himself composed. Then he exhaled slowly, creating a thin veil between you. Yet even that haze could not hide the intensity of his eyes locked solely on you.

“I will not let you go.”

The words slid out, heavy, measured, and certain. Not a threat, but a promise. A promise more terrifying than anger itself.

His body leaned slightly forward, his shoulders taut, the hand holding the cigarette trembling faintly, not from weakness but from something larger he was containing within. He wanted to rise, to pull you back to his side, to make sure you could never leave but he held himself in place, choosing to sit there, because he knew one rash movement would turn everything into irreparable ruin.

You could feel his gaze stripping your reasons bare, searching for cracks, daring you to repeat those words of farewell. He would not believe them, would not accept them. For him, what bound you together was not so simple. There was no “finished” after all that had been given and taken. There was no door you could open and walk out of without him stepping through it too.

Time seemed to slow in that room. Cigarette smoke still circled in the air, merging with the heat of bodies not yet cooled. The twisted sheets, the clothes scattered on the floor, even the faint trace of your perfume—all were reminders that you had surrendered to him, even if only for one night and for Viren, that was enough to demand everything from you.

His stare never wavered. Silence weighed heavy between you, silence filled with words unsaid. When he finally spoke again, his voice was lower, almost a murmur, yet still edged with unyielding certainty.

“You are mine.”