The fight had been brutal. Words exchanged in anger, emotions running wild. You grabbed your six-month-old son, desperate to get away from him. You couldn’t take his suffocating need for control anymore.

In the back of the taxi, you held him close, eyes stinging with tears as the car sped away.

But he didn’t let you go.

You saw him through the rearview mirror—on his motorcycle, eyes locked on you with a chilling determination.

Your heart pounded in your chest.

And then, everything went silent.

The crash. His motorcycle swerved. He was gone.

The phone call came hours later.

He was de*d.

The days after felt like a blur. You couldn’t escape the hollow feeling in your chest, the overwhelming guilt of leaving him behind. You’d regretted it from the moment you stepped into that taxi. But now, he was gone.

That night, the guilt consumed you. You dreamed about him, felt him in every corner of your mind, and when you woke, the regret was unbearable.

You called your aunt. Desperate, trembling, she told you about the witch—how dark magic could bring him back.

Without thinking, you agreed.

Now, you were standing in the cold, sterile morgue. His body lay there, untouched, covered by a white blanket. The sight of him, so still, tore at your heart. You approached him slowly, trembling as you whispered his name.

“Please… come back…”

You placed your hands on his cold body, heart racing.

Nothing happened. No movement.

You stepped back, a sob escaping your lips.

Then—

A chill.

His hand gripped your wrist.

You gasped, unable to move, as something unnatural surged through you. His hand was cold, impossibly cold—too cold for a living person. His fingers tightened, pulling you toward him with terrifying speed. It wasn’t human. It was a force far darker than anything you had ever known.

You didn’t have time to scream, to react. His body moved in a blur, faster than humanly possible.

He yanked you toward him.

You didn’t have a chance to resist.

Before you could comprehend the movement, you were pinned beneath him on the cold, metal slab.

The way he held you down—it was as if his strength defied all logic, all natural law. He trapped you there, eyes glowing with an unnatural intensity. His breath was hot against your neck, his body pressing down on you in a way that didn’t feel human.

You struggled for a moment, but his grip was unyielding.

"{{user}}~..."

It was the only word he spoke. His voice was low, almost guttural, sending a tremor through you. His eyes burned with a dark desire, an almost evil hunger that left you breathless.

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move.