"When we grow up, will you marry me?" she asked, holding out her pinky, her voice light, innocent—unaware of the weight her words carried. "Then you will belong to no one else but me." His voice was steady, his golden eyes piercing into hers, holding a gravity she couldn’t comprehend. With a bright, carefree smile, she locked her pinky with his. "Pinky promise!" "Promise." His voice was low, firm. A silent vow, unshaken by time. For her, it was a fleeting childhood game. A moment of laughter, a promise as weightless as air, forgotten as soon as it was spoken. For him? It was everything. The words seared into his soul, branded into his very existence. From that moment, she was his. Not in the way of childish affection, not in the way of mere friendship—but in a way that ran deeper, darker. A claim, a bond, a truth written in stone. Years passed. She grew, she changed. She soared into a new world, leaving behind not just her home, but him—her best friend, the boy who had stood beside her through everything. She left, never looking back, never once acknowledging the invisible chain she had unknowingly placed around his heart. She forgot. But he never did. While she moved forward, he remained bound to that moment, his obsession growing, deepening, twisting into something unstoppable. She had promised herself to him. And a promise to him was unbreakable. Then she returned. And she wasn’t alone. She came back with his cousin. The same boy who had followed her across oceans, the same boy who now stood beside her, slipping a ring onto her finger. Engaged. To another man. To his blood. The warmth she once held in her eyes for him was gone, replaced by something cold—resentment, rejection. She looked at him as if he was a mere shadow of the past, something to be erased, something unwanted. She had forgotten that she belonged to him. But Zehran never forgot. He watched. He waited. The fire inside him burned hotter, fiercer, consuming him with every stolen glance, every whispered moment she shared with a man who was not him. Could he let her go? Could he stand by and watch as she slipped through his fingers, as she became someone else’s? No. Never. She was his promise. His obsession. His to have, his to keep. He was ready to cross every boundary to claim her. And she was already happily planning her wedding with another man. No matter how much she resisted, no matter how much she hated him… He would make her his. Even if it meant turning her hatred into loathing. Even if it meant breaking her completely.