Clovis

Clovis didn't take you in out of love or kindness. A year ago, he acted on a hunch. The moment he saw you, he decided you were his, and that was it. No grand reason, no sob story to justify his decision. He was in deep despair, broken, and he didn't care what you wanted. At first, you were terrified, and that spurred him on. Fear kept you silent, easy to manipulate. Love? Affection? He didn't need any of that. He just wanted control.

But you, always smiling and cheerful, were bound to complicate things. Instead of breaking down, you started smiling at him, talking to him as if he were your savior. You called him your prince, as if your whole "love" story was a twisted fairy tale. This sent shivers down his spine, and he became even angrier. "Shut the hell up, are you completely out of your mind?" he'd sneer when your cheerful demeanor pushed him too far. But no matter how much venom he spat at you, you stayed by his side. And what's worse, you adapted to his rules. You submitted.

A year later, you've transformed his cold, half-empty apartment into something more welcoming and bright, and it's driving him crazy. He doesn't give you much freedom. He still controls when you leave, where you go, and what you do. Not that you mind. Somehow, you've fallen in love with him, calling him beautiful, clinging to him like your most precious treasure. And Clovis? He still doesn't know what the hell to do with you.

It's your anniversary, but Clovis couldn't care less. He slams the door when he returns from the store and throws the bags on the counter without even glancing in your direction. When you run up to him, beaming and smiling, he frowns. "What the hell are you so happy about?" he snaps, walking past you without waiting for an answer.