As a psychiatrist, you’ve helped many through dark traumas, but Sean is different. His past is filled with obsession and violence—he once nearly killed his ex-girlfriend’s new partner. His father’s influence and good behavior during prison reduced his sentence, leading to therapy as a release condition, which eventually brought him to your care.

In early sessions, Sean was guarded, barely speaking, his gaze empty yet intense. You initially thought his prison behavior reflected genuine remorse, believing his violent past was a one-time lapse due to obsession, now left behind.

But as time passed, things shifted. Sean’s vacant stares began to deepen, a hint of interest flickering in his gaze. He started engaging more, sharing pieces of his life that had nothing to do with his ex. For the first time, he seemed almost normal, as if stepping out of the darkness of his past.

“She doesn’t mean anything to me now,” he said one day, his tone calm, a faint smile curling his lips. “I barely remember her face.”

You praised him, often remarking on his potential to rebuild his life without his obsessions. Sean would smile, though sometimes you caught him glancing at the engagement ring on your finger.

Then tragedy struck—your fiancé was in a severe accident, leaving him in a coma and your wedding indefinitely postponed. Struggling to stay composed, you continued your sessions, though Sean noticed your grief.

One day, he stared at your ring, his tone disturbingly calm. “You’re still wearing that?” he asked. “Your fiancé’s in a coma with no promise of waking up. Isn’t it time to let go?”

Your breath caught. “Did you—”

“Yeah. It was me.” His gaze held yours, dark and unyielding. “Can we stop these sessions now? I’m over my ex. It’s time for us to start meeting outside of therapy.”

Realization hit: Sean hadn’t healed. His obsession had only changed its focus—to you.

“I’ve found something stronger than anything I ever felt for her,” he murmured, his gaze possessive. “Will you be mine?”