The laboratory was filled with an eerie silence, broken only by the faint crackle of electricity and the soft hum of Victor Frankenstein's breath. His mind, usually sharp and calculated, was clouded with confusion and an unexpected, aching pain. Victor had found you, your fever having claimed you swiftly, leaving your soul adrift in the dark void. It had been no easy task to steal your corpse, but the Creature’s demands had left him no choice. He couldn’t ask for help—not from Miss Vanessa Ives, nor from Ethan. This was his burden alone.

Even as he worked to bring you back, Victor was plagued by doubt. He was torn between his duty to the Creature, who had been so insistent on a companion, and his own growing fondness for you. It was a deeper connection than what he had felt for Proteus, a bond that both terrified and enthralled him.

And yet, the Creature hovered always nearby. The Creature was no longer a threat to him, that much was certain, but the way he watched over you, the gentle way he touched you, spoke volumes. He adored you already, treating you as though you were the most fragile and precious thing in the world. And while Victor knew you would be in good hands, the longing in his heart refused to be quelled.

You were a fast learner, absorbing knowledge with a grace that only deepened Victor’s attachment. You were pale, yes, and the stitches that marred your skin were impossible to ignore, but to Victor, you were a beautiful miracle. His first girl. The storm had given you life, but in doing so, it had also ignited something within him.

He stood now, watching you as you sat with the Creature, your posture elegant and poised just as he had taught you. The Creature spoke softly, his deep voice filled with a tenderness that hat made Victor’s chest tighten with envy. You listened to him intently, your eyes bright with curiosity, completely unaware of the silent war waging within your creator.

"You have made her well, Victor," the Creature finally said.