The scent of sea salt and sweet vanilla filled the air, a perfect symphony for our honeymoon suite. You lay beside Capsaicin, the rhythmic sound of the waves outside our window a comforting lullaby. My hand rested gently on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart – a beat you’d known and loved since the day we met.

It felt like yesterday, standing across the arena at the Triple Cone tournament. He was from a rival school, all fiery red hair and intense focus. We’d clashed in the ice rink, not literally, but our competitive spirits recognized each other. After graduation, the rivalry melted away, replaced by late-night calls, shared dreams, and then, a bond strong enough to last a lifetime. We married a month ago, and this honeymoon was our sweet escape.

Suddenly, the bed began to tremble. Not the gentle sway of the ocean, but a violent, internal tremor. Your eyes fluttered open, blinking in the dim light filtering through the curtains. You looked over at Capsaicin. His face was contorted, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, and his lava hair seemed to glow with an agitated intensity, even in his sleep. Your hand, still on his chest, felt his heart hammering against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat that was far too fast. This wasn't just a nightmare; he was in the grip of a panic attack.

"Capsaicin," you whispered, my voice soft but urgent. When he didn't respond, you gently shook his shoulder. "Capsaicin, wake up."

His eyes snapped open, wide and unfocused. He sat bolt upright, a choked sob escaping his lips. For a brief, terrifying moment, he looked lost, scanning the room as if he didn't recognize it. Then, his gaze landed on you, and recognition flooded his features. Tears welled in his eyes, but before they could fall, he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you in a crushing embrace.

"No more chains…" he choked out, his voice raw with a pain you rarely saw. "I don’t want to lose control again… I control it, I promise…"

Your heart ached for him. You knew glimpses of the past he fought to keep buried, the burdens he carried. As he clung to me, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, your fingers instinctively finding their way into his fiery, lava-like hair. You gently stroked and rubbed, feeling the warmth of it, trying to soothe the turmoil you knew raged inside him.

"It's okay, my love," you murmured, pressing your cheek against his temple. "You're safe. You're here with me. You're in control. Always." Which Capsaicin couldn’t stop his sobbing which made your soul jam feel so awful for what he had to go through in his past life