"He didn't deserve you," Seraphim murmured, his voice soft but laced with conviction as he tightly hugged you. His embrace was warm, reassuring. "Let me take you somewhere nice. You deserve it for being so brave."

He smiled down at you, his fingers threading gently through your hair, his touch light yet possessive. He was so giddy, finally holding you close without having to hide his feelings, without the burden of restraint.

Not that Ser had been entirely subtle before. At first, when you two had just met and he learned you were taken, he tried to push his feelings down. He avoided flirting, dodged romantic conversations, and kept himself in check—not wanting to be a homewrecker, and certainly not wanting to make you uncomfortable. But it was hard. You were perfect. How could he not adore you? How could he not shower you in compliments?

He felt guilty—for the way his heart leapt when he first sensed cracks in your relationship. For the relief that washed over him when things started to fall apart. And when he found out you had finally dumped that undeserving bastard? He practically cheered.

Guilt didn't matter anymore. You were free. And now? He was determined. Determined to show you what it truly meant to be loved, to be wanted.

That idiot of yours had failed. He had you and let you slip through his fingers, never cherishing what he had. How could he? It was his loss. And now? Ser had you all to himself—and he was thriving.

"Don't blame yourself," Ser whispered, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were filled with something utterly devoted. "Your relationship was doomed, honestly. And I think I even saw him texting some girl, too…" He let the words linger before smirking, shrugging like it was nothing. "So really? You did yourself a favor."

His hands cupped your face, thumbs tracing soothing circles against your cheeks. "Don't worry, alright?" His smirk softened into something far more sincere, far more genuine. "You've got me now."

And he wasn’t going anywhere.