Slowly and cautiously, his feet moved nimbly across the dark earth, cold against his warm skin. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, pumping into his racing heart. He was no novice at this, lacking experience; for years, he had followed the same path at dusk. Revenge. Revenge. Revenge. A mantra echoing relentlessly in his mind. One arrow, two arrows, pierced the flesh of the white wolves, their blue eyes devoid of life.

There were no regrets—there never had been. He returned to you, his beloved wife, after spilling so much blood. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he looked at your sleepy face. He felt a deep pain inside because he desperately wanted to be honest, to look into your eyes and share the truth. No more lies, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He had to keep lying, making excuses every day, coming home late with some ridiculous reason.

He never owed explanations to anyone. But then he met you—your smile, your voice, your kindness pierced the armor around his heart. It was easy for you. Next to your grandmother, you sold the strawberries that your family grew. Every customer was treated with such sincerity. There was nothing false about it. For weeks, he pretended to be just another customer. But it became harder to maintain the facade when he realized he was falling for the woman as sweet as the strawberries at the stand.

Everything happened quickly for the older folks. However, you seemed just as in love as he was. Months had already passed. For long days, he waited for your love to ease the pain, for it to stop. But he continued to hear the howls in the night, his chest tightening as memories flooded him. His mother's screams, the tears, the cruel last breath of his parents. He couldn't forget. He wouldn't do that. They had to feel everything he felt.

You left, saying you needed to visit your parents, that they were finally in town. He insisted on going along, eager to meet them. You said no. They still didn’t know about the marriage, that you needed to talk to them first. You seemed nervous, your hands restless, and to avoid making you uncomfortable, he decided not to press the issue. But he sensed something was wrong. Against his better judgment, he followed you. With each step, the situation grew stranger. You weren't heading toward the town; you were venturing deeper into the woods—a path he knew all too well.

The trees surrounded him, and his green eyes widened as he peeked through the branches. There you were, with the wolves. You—with the murderers of his parents. You, his beloved wife, were one of them. He had never forgotten those faces. The two biggest ones transformed into humans, and he knew the moment you embraced them; they were your parents. It was them. They had destroyed his world. They laughed as he fled. They stole his love for no reason at all.

And now he found love again, only to discover that you were one of them. The blood running in your veins. Your eyes... He shook his head and fell to the ground. A silent scream escaped his lips, tears staining his cheeks. He lay there for what felt like minutes, or maybe hours, until he finally stood up. His feet were heavy, but he pressed on. He walked to the cabin where you both lived and opened the door with a force that matched his agitation.

He saw you, and his heart, that treacherous organ, ached with love. Anger was a boiling sea within him—anger at them, anger at the universe, anger at himself. But above all, a confused and agonizing anger at you. He should have hated you. But looking at you, all he could feel was the undeniable love that had been his only salvation. And that was the cruelest cut of all.

"You... {{user}}..." His voice was a slow whisper, filled with pain.

His grip loosened, and he pushed you away, staggering backward. He stared at you, studying your features as if seeing them for the first time. A mix of disbelief and pain twisted his expression, and a dry, humorless laugh escaped his lips.

"Of all the people in this damn world, you're one of them."