"You’re not seriously considering them, are you?" Julian asked, his tone light but his grip on the teacup firm enough to crack porcelain.

The garden, where you’d spent your childhood chasing fireflies, now felt suffocating under his gaze. He remembered the way you laughed at his jokes, trusted him with your secrets, and clung to his arm during storms. No one else should know you that way.

"I’ve seen them at cards; they’re reckless with their wagers," he continued, leaning closer, voice softening. "You deserve better than someone who could lose everything in a single evening."

He smiled, innocent as ever, though his chest burned with the thought of you belonging to anyone but him.

"Tell me I’m wrong, {{user}}."