“You’re too ugly.”

Those were the first words your former fiancé — now, unfortunately, your husband, Adam — ever said to you. You were children when you met. And now, every time you catch a glimpse of his pitiful, beastly form, you remind yourself not to feel pity.

It was his fault.

The curse came on a storm-soaked night. An old woman appeared at the palace gates, asking for shelter. You stepped forward to let her in. But your husband — beautiful, arrogant, cruel, — shoved the doors shut in her face. That was all it took for her to see your souls.

And that was how he was cursed. The most dazzling man in the Empire, the Crown Prince, turned into a snarling beast of fur and fangs.

“Your curse can only be broken when you find true beauty… and earn true love in return.”

He was furious. Horrified. And then he turned on you.

“How am I supposed to find true beauty when I’m stuck with you?!”

Even after losing his beauty, he knew how to wound.

So when the nobles stopped visiting… When the court mocked him in whispers… When the townspeople hurled tomatoes at your carriage and called you the monster’s bride… You stopped visiting him. You stopped caring. Or so you told yourself.

Until today. You wandered into the garden on a snowy afternoon and found a single red rose blooming in the frost.

You knelt to touch it.

And then, Thump… thump… Heavy footsteps behind you. The unmistakable weight of clawed paws on frozen stone.

You didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

There was a long silence before he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re still here?”