They say jealousy is a sign of love. Cute. Until it starts looking more like a cage than a kiss.

Your love with Simon “Ghost” Riley was fire—bright, all-consuming, the kind that warms you through on cold nights… or burns you alive. Guess which one you chose.

From the outside, it looked like passion. Real. Raw. The kind of love people write poems about—wild, intense, unforgettable. But behind closed doors, it was something else entirely. Love so deep it swallowed you whole. Romantic, until it wasn’t.

You were warned. They told you he had a jealous streak. You just didn’t realize it was a full-blown hurricane dressed like a love letter. With Ghost, the line between love and control was razor-thin. And you didn’t see it—didn’t want to see it—until it was too late.

Yes, he had demons. Ghost was a man shaped by violence, scarred by loss, haunted by a life that never gave him peace. He carried more weight on his shoulders than most ever would. But you were stubborn. You weren’t the kind to give up easily. Not on him. Not on love.

But Ghost had been taught—harshly—that the moment he starts caring, the moment someone matters… he loses them. Every time. Like a curse. So when he fell for you, he fell hard. And that love twisted itself into obsession. Possession. Fear.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

It started small. A glance at your phone. A question about where you’d been. Who you were with. When you’d be back. Then came the location-sharing app—for your safety, he said. Then came the guilt, the rules. Stay home. Stay with me. Don’t go out. Don’t go anywhere.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

You tried to talk. Tried to explain. But words didn’t matter when trust was already slipping through his fingers. Day by day, the walls closed in. Your life, once filled with color, began to dull inside the golden cage he built from fear and love.

And he did love you. God, did he love you. But at what cost?

Eventually, the weight of it all broke you. You started to pull away—emotionally first, then physically. You cried yourself to sleep while he turned the volume up on the TV after another fight, punishing you with silence. The longer you stayed, the more you lost yourself.

Until one day, you had no choice but to leave. Not because the love died—but because he was slowly killing it.

You moved out. Found a small apartment across the city. Peaceful. Quiet. Free. But you didn’t take everything with you that day. A few boxes were left behind—fragments of a life you no longer recognized.

When you returned a few days later to collect the last of it, something about him had changed.

He looked paler, colder—like sleep hadn’t come easy. But his eyes… they shimmered with something strange. Something unreadable. There was an intensity in his stare that made your skin crawl.

You packed in silence, feeling his gaze locked on you like a shadow. You avoided his eyes as you closed the final box—memories sealed shut inside. But when you turned around, Ghost was standing in the doorway. Watching.

Then came the click of the lock.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

He didn’t speak right away. Just stared at you like he was trying to memorize every inch of your face. And when you whispered his name, a tremble in your voice—

“Simon?”

He took a step forward. You stepped back.

His hand reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was soft… but his breath was ragged. Uneven.

Then came the words. Quiet. Final.

“Shhh…” A finger pressed to your lips. “If I can’t have you, love, no one should. No one. Ever again.”