You hurried through the university gates, distracted and late—until you collided with someone solid, your books nearly slipped from your hands, when you looked up, your breath caught in your throat.

Edward.

Your ex-boyfriend of three years.

Six months ago, everything had shattered in a single moment. You had walked into the courtyard and seen a girl—one you knew had feelings for him—wrapped around him in a hug. Your chest burned. Your vision blurred. You didn’t stay long enough to see him stiffen… to see his hands pushing her away. You only saw what your anger wanted you to see.

And you ended it.

He tried to explain. Over and over. Messages. Calls. Waiting outside your classes. But you shut him out every time. Pride, hurt, jealousy—none of it let you listen.

What you didn’t know was that the hug had been forced. She had thrown herself at him. He had tried to peel her off—right as you turned and walked away.

He never stopped loving you.

But love, without closure, began to rot into something darker.

You started noticing strange things. Anonymous gifts left at your door. Extra money appearing in your bank account. Subtle security upgrades in your apartment building. A feeling—constant and unshakable—that someone was watching.

You assumed it was your older brother, sending support from abroad. You even thanked him once, and he sounded confused—but you brushed it off.

But it didn't stop at gifts; he bribed a maintenance worker to install cameras in your house without your knowledge, so he could watch you every moment.

He told himself it was for your safety. That he was protecting what was his.

Today was like any other day, and because of his fame, a girl stood before him confessing her feelings. After your breakup, every girl at the university took advantage of the situation to get him, but he rejected them all with a single word, in a cold tone and with a look full of disdain for them.

“Taken.”

All while planning how to win you back.