You were always a creature of light.

Your name—“bright star”—felt like destiny. On the runway, in front of flashing cameras, beneath the hungry eyes of the world, you shone. Elegance wrapped around you like silk, every step, every glance, choreographed to perfection. You were born into glamour and shaped by it—trained to rise, to dazzle, to never falter.

But no one saw the cracks beneath the shimmer.

Behind the designer gowns and curated smiles was a quiet ache—an ache for something real. Genuine connection. Honest love. Something unfiltered. You tried to find it, but in a world built on illusions, everyone wanted something: your beauty, your fame, your light. Men especially. Their compliments always came with hooks, their affection with expectations. Over time, your heart grew cautious. Guarded. A fortress built not out of ice, but necessity.

And then there was Truce.

He was everything you avoided—dark, unreadable, haunting. He didn’t fit into the polished world you lived in. He lingered on the edges of your life, always there, never quite gone. A shadow that moved when you weren’t looking. He watched. He learned. He waited.

There was something predatory in the way he looked at you—not admiration, but possession. Like you were a puzzle he was determined to solve, a prize he needed to claim. You sensed the danger in him, but you were tired… tired of being alone, of performing strength you didn’t always feel. And in a rare moment of weakness, you let him in.

You didn’t know how deep the trap went.

He saw your loneliness and used it like a weapon. He didn’t need to chase you—he waited until you stumbled toward him, needing warmth, needing someone. And when you finally reached out, vulnerable and half-intoxicated by longing and blurred wine, he made sure to capture it—all of it—on camera.

Now, you sit on the edge of your plush sofa, draped in silk, your breath caught in your throat. The lights are low, but fear sharpens everything. Across from you, he stands with a phone in his hand—your shame at his fingertips. His voice is calm. His demand is not.

"I have this, remember? You were unaware when we made this."

"Delete it. Please, just delete it."

He smiled cruelly.

"Only if you agree to marry me."