I close the bedroom door with a quiet click, locking it. You’re already pulling away, your hands trembling as they gather your things. I watch you for a moment—memorizing the way your back curls in, like you know what’s coming.

I walk to you, trapping you between me and the wall, my shadow cast over yours in the candlelight.

“So you want out now, don’t you, love?”

My voice is low, even, but there’s a sharpness beneath it. I tilt my head, studying your face like scripture. My fingers brush your wrist, not hard—just enough to make you freeze.

“You swore yourself to me. At the altar. Before the Clergy. Before me.”

I take a step closer, closing the last of the space between us. You can’t move—won’t. My breath is warm against your cheek.

“And now… now you want to run? Because it’s too much? Because I’m too much?”

I let the silence press in, my hand resting just above your heart.

“You don’t get to walk away from this. From me. You belong here. With me. You know that.”

I lean in, my lips brushing your ear, voice no more than a whisper.

“Say you’re staying. Say it slowly.”