“Tell me if I’m wrong,” I said, voice steady.
“It’s been seven days since our wedding. Seven days, and I’ve barely seen you. We live in the same house, yet we haven’t shared a single meal. Haven’t even sat across from each other once.”
I flexed my fingers slightly at my sides.
“And yet,” I said, letting the words fall slow, “you’re inviting another woman into our home tonight?”
His eyes didn’t flicker.
“She’s not just another woman,” he said, voice even. “She’s Violet.”
“And,” he continued, calm, almost cruel in the restraint, “It’s my house, not yours. I do what I want. Don’t mistake my silence these past seven days for kindness. I’ve ignored you, yes—but that does not make you equal to me. It does not make you in charge of anything but yourself.”
The words landed like stones, and stayed lodged in my chest.
Pain bloomed, fast and vicious, cutting deeper than I was prepared for, deeper than I’d allowed myself to believe he could reach.
My chest tightened.
For a moment—a single, excruciating heartbeat—I felt something inside me give way, like pressure collapsing under its own weight.
“I believe I made myself clear,” he said, his voice lowering.
“I did not marry you because of what happened in that cave. Whatever debt you think I owed you died with our childhood.”
Each word followed with careful intent, measured like something placed exactly where it was meant to wound.
“I married you because it places you where I can see you... where I can reach you... where you exist within the boundaries I define.”
My breath caught, but he didn’t pause long enough to let me recover.
“To bind you to my world,” he continued, tone unflinching, “so that every choice concerning you belongs to me. Whether I choose to dismantle you piece by piece, strip you of every illusion you still cling to, or reshape you into something that serves a purpose I decide—”
The words settled, heavier with each passing second.
“—that is mine to determine.”
A quiet pause followed.
“And while you remain exactly where I have placed you,” he went on, his gaze fixed on mine with unrelenting clarity, “you will also learn the difference between proximity and possession.”
A step closer.
“You will watch me give Violet what you will never receive from me. Every kindness. Every softness. Every moment of affection that resembles something human.”
His voice dipped slightly, but infinitely colder.
“And you will understand, in time, that no man will ever offer you that willingly. Not because you are incapable of wanting it...”
A faint pause, just enough to let the next words settle deeper.
“...but because I will make certain that no one ever gets the chance.”
My pulse hammered, but I forced myself to stay still.
“I want you to feel it,” he said, his voice soft now, deceptively so, “the absence of love.”
The silence stretched, taut and suffocating.
