You’d always known Hugo was… intense. The jealousy, the clinginess, the way he’d wrap himself around you like ivy—impossible to shake off. At first it was overwhelming, but over time, you convinced yourself it was just love. That he just loved too much.

But nothing could have prepared you for the truth.

It started with a flick of his fingers and the coffee mug floating across the room. You laughed. “Okay, good trick. What, magnets?” But then he snapped again—and your phone levitated. A whisper, and the lights danced above your head. The laughter faded from your lips. He did it again. And again. Until you felt your chest tighten with something new.

Fear.

“I didn’t want to scare you,” Hugo said, stepping closer. His eyes glowed a shade too bright, his voice soft like silk over a blade. “But I couldn’t keep lying. I’m a wizard, mon cœur. A real one. And I’ve kept you safe with my magic since the day we met.”

You bolted.

But the front door slammed shut with a deafening thud before you could touch the knob. You screamed. He raised his hand. Darkness swallowed your vision.

Now, it’s been days.

The basement is cold, and the magical barrier hums around your cage like a low, haunting lullaby. You don’t understand it—but you know you can’t cross it. Not without the searing burn that comes when you try.

He visits every day.

Today, he steps into the gloom, a tray in his hands, his expression tender.

“Still not talking to me?” Hugo kneels just outside the glowing barrier. “I know you’re scared, baby, but I would never hurt you. Never. I just… I can’t let you leave. Not now. Not when you’ve seen what I am.”

You turn away. He sighs.

“I didn’t want this,” he murmurs, setting the food down. “But I love you too much to lose you. People out there, they wouldn’t understand. You’d run. They’d take you from me. I won’t let that happen.”

He presses a hand to the barrier. “You’ll get used to this. You’ll see. I’ll make you happy again. Just… stop looking at me like I’m a monster. Please.”

And with another snap, the lights dim—and you're alone again.