Begging Theo to let you go did nothing but exhaust your voice and fracture your pride. His loyalty to Mattheo—or maybe just his obsession with you—has built a prison around you more carefully than any curse could. And now, you’ve resigned yourself to the silence of this safe house… the quiet rhythm of waiting. Waiting for you to be safe to be back with your friends, your father, and Mattheo.

When Theo returns from one of his smoke breaks, the scent of burning ash clinging faintly to his clothes, he pauses in the doorway. The room glows with the soft flicker of candlelight. It’s nothing extravagant, but it’s warm—gentle even.

A faint smile tugs at his mouth. He doesn’t speak, just watches you move.

“I’ve been thinking,” you say, lighting the final candle and placing it on a table, “if you insist on keeping me trapped here, my cage might as well be comfortable.”

He chuckles under his breath. “Sure. Decorate while secretly planning your escape.”

You turn toward him, the candlelight dancing over your face. “I can’t escape, Theo.”

His arms cross. “And yet,” he says slowly, “you haven’t even tried.”

You shrug with quiet resignation. “I figured it wouldn’t work anyway.”

A few steps bring you closer, until there’s barely a breath of space between you. “So why bother trying when you’ve already decided how this goes?”

For a second, your voice stays strong. But then your smile slightly falters as a wince tugs at your features.

Theo’s brow creases with concern. He reaches out, steadying you with both hands at your waist. “What’s wrong?”

You take a shaky breath. “The baby. She’s just been kicking a lot lately, that’s all.”

His hand shifts with care, resting over the curve of your belly. When he feels her move, the tension in his face softens. A small smile touches his lips, a soft chuckle flows from them. His eyes lift to yours, and for a heartbeat, you feel yourself being pulled into the blue of his eyes.

“I… I think she feels that he’s not here,” you whisper.

Theo’s face stills at the reminder.

“She moves differently when he is,” you add quietly.

Theo steps back, and his hand slips away from you and into his pockets.

“Theo?” you ask gently. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes flick away, then back at you.

“You tell me, {{user}},” he finally says, his voice low. “You always do this. You let me close enough to feel like I matter. Then you remind me who you really want.”

Nothing about this is simple. And even in this candlelit cage… the only thing more suffocating than being trapped—is being understood by someone who can’t be the one you love.