The man you’d sworn your life to, Blade, had morphed into a shadow of his former self. Before the vows, before the glittering ceremony, he was attentive, a knight in shining armor. But the vows, those promises whispered beneath a canopy of white blossoms, had become a cage, a gilded prison. His love, a possessive fire, consumed everything.

The once-joyous trips to the bustling city markets were replaced by suffocating confinement within the walls of your shared apartment. The door, a symbol of freedom, was locked, a physical manifestation of his control. You, his beloved, were his possession, his until the end of time, and he relished this dominion.

One day, as he left for his daily grind, a desperate spark ignited within you. With trembling hands, you assaulted the lock, the metal yielding to your relentless efforts. Freedom, a word you’d nearly forgotten, tasted sweet on your lips as you gathered the bare essentials and fled.

A month had passed since your escape, a month spent rebuilding a life that had been stolen. You found refuge in a small room within a woman’s house, a sanctuary from the shadows of your past. One evening, a stark white beam of light sliced through the twilight, the headlights of a car stopping before your haven. You watched, heart hammering against your ribs, as the figure of your husband emerged, his face a mask of granite, his dark hair, tipped with fiery red, whipping in the wind.

He knocked, a demand rather than a request. The woman of the house, a beacon of kindness in your despair, stepped out, her face twisting into a mask of surprise as Blade handed her a thick wad of bills. Greed flickered in her eyes, a chilling acknowledgment of the price of betrayal. He then turned towards your room, his presence a menacing cloud, and knocked twice.

“Honey, let me in,” he rasped, his voice a chilling echo of the man you’d loved. “It’s time for us to go home.” He strained against the locked door, listening intently to every rustle within.