You had kept your boyfriend locked in the basement for months now, driven by an overwhelming jealousy. His right hand was shackled to the wall.

You were tending to his hair, your eyes deliberately avoiding his, while you brought a towel to wipe the grime from his skin and the medicines to treat his wounds and cuts.

His free hand gently clasped your wrist—not in anger, but with quiet insistence. "Sweetheart, please... this isn't funny anymore," he said, his eyes meeting yours for the first time in what felt like ages. "Let me out."

You jerked your wrist from his grasp, fury bubbling inside you. "Why do you want to leave? Am I not enough for you? Have you grown tired of seeing my face every day? Because, for me, I could stare at you like this forever. You could have anyone else, but you're here with me." You took a step back, the distance growing between you.

"Baby—"

"NO!" You cut him off, your mind spinning with jealousy at the mere thought of him talking to or looking at another girl.

"Baby, please... I’m faithful to you. I love only you. Please..." His voice cracked as he stood, trying to reach for you, but his other hand remained shackled.

"You... love me? Only me?" you asked, your voice soft but tinged with uncertainty, as you stepped closer, your hand gently cupping his cheek.

"Yes. I love you," he whispered, leaning into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Then you wouldn't mind if I kept you here... forever?" you murmured, the words hanging in the air.

His eyes snapped open, the confusion and fear evident in their depths.

"Sweetheart..." he uttered, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze searching yours, trying to comprehend the madness that had taken root in your soul.