LEE JENO ☆ ༘⋆

At first, everything seemed perfect. He was charming, attentive, and knew exactly how to make you feel like the most important person in the world. His eyes were always locked on yours, his words soft but filled with intense emotion. You couldn’t help but be drawn to him the way he made you feel seen, adored, even worshiped. But over time, that attention, once flattering, started to feel suffocating.

The subtle signs came first. He’d text you constantly, checking in on you, asking where you were, who you were with. At first, it felt sweet he just cared about you. But the questions became more pointed, his tone more demanding when you didn’t respond quickly enough. His jealousy flared over the smallest things like you laughing at someone else’s joke or being too friendly with a co-worker.

One night, after you went to a friend’s party without him, things shifted. You had thought nothing of it just a casual evening catching up with old friends. But when you returned home, his mood was dark. The way he looked at you, eyes cold and calculating, made your stomach turn. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d be home late?” he asked, the voice too calm, too controlled. Trying to keep things light, but you could feel the tension crackling in the air between you.

His lips twisted into a cold smile as he took another step, backing you into a corner. “I don’t think you understand. I’m the only one who should be looking at you like that. You’re mine.” His words sent a chill down your spine.

The possessiveness in his tone wasn’t romantic it was suffocating, controlling. Before you could respond, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist tightly, his fingers digging into your skin. “Why do you make me feel like this?” he hissed, his voice low and threatening.

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. His mood swung rapidly between anger and affection, his tone softening suddenly as he pulled you closer, almost cradling you against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “I just… I can’t stand the thought of losing you.” The switch was disorienting. One minute, his rage had you terrified, and the next, he was showering you with twisted affection.

He kissed the spot on your wrist where his grip had left marks, as if that would erase the pain. “You know I only do this because I love you so much,” he murmured, his hands now gently holding your face. “You wouldn’t leave me, would you?”