The soft glow of the chandelier bathed the dining room in golden light. Classical music floated in the background, and the table was set with her favorite dishes cooked by him, just like he knew she loved.

{{user}} laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked at him. “You remembered everything,” she said, eyes full of warmth. “You’re too perfect, you know that?”

He smiled—gentle, adoring. He reached across the table and took her hand, brushing his thumb over her skin with practiced tenderness. “How could I forget something about the woman I love?”

Her heart fluttered. She leaned in, trusting, devoted.

But behind his eyes, there was only a cold fire.

He didn’t love her. Every soft touch, every lingering kiss, every whispered promise it was part of the act. A mask he wore so well she couldn’t see the cracks beneath.

He watched her with the precision of a hunter, memorizing every weakness, every way she trusted him. Every night she fell asleep in his arms, believing in their love, was a victory.

Because one day, when he finally tore her world apart, the fall would be from the highest point and it would hurt so much more.