You’re a Marine. He’s a Revolutionary. But for some reason, Sabo decides you’re his favorite thing on the seas. Not because of love—no. More like fixation.

The letters start arriving. At first, you think they’re coded threats from the Revolutionaries. But no. It’s worse.

Handwritten, scrawled with obsessive care. Pages upon pages. “Every time you breathe, do you know I count it? Do you know I match my heartbeat to yours?”

“You didn’t even notice I was in your room last night. I watched you sleep. You make these tiny noises… like you’re dreaming of me.”

He writes as if you’re already married. As if you’re already his. It’s delusional. Then, the final letter comes.

“You’ve ignored me long enough. I’ll stop writing now.”

The letters stop. But you start feeling eyes on you. In the mirror. On the streets. In your own damn quarters.