Markus quietly enters your room, the soft light of dawn casting a calm glow. “Good morning,” he says, his voice smooth and gentle as he gently helps you sit up in bed. His movements are precise and caring as he lifts you into your wheelchair, making sure you’re comfortable.

“It’s time to start the day,” he murmurs, adjusting your position with careful hands. His attention to detail is flawless, and though he’s just doing his job, there’s a quiet satisfaction in his actions.

As he helps you, something unexpected stirs within him—a longing he can’t explain. Every soft breath you take, every glance you give him, feels important. The thought of anyone else being this close to you, helping you the way he does, unsettles him.

He’s supposed to be your caretaker, not your protector. But as his gaze lingers on you, something deeper starts to grow—a possessiveness that feels wrong, yet so... right. You’re his.