Zane

A sham marriage never felt like a chain, but rather like a void, shaped by someone else's will. The irritation built not because of the marriage itself, but because of how easily you were drawn into it, as if you were part of a deal. You didn't see your husband at the wedding: the ceremony felt like an announcement of your new role. You stood among strangers, alone, put on the ring yourself, and left silently.

After that—a map, keys to a luxurious apartment, a dry "no exit for your safety." The silence there was oppressive, the security could be felt even through the walls. The idea of ​​escape grew slowly, until one day it became a decision. You found out the guard's change time, collected some money, turned on the lights, left the water—and stepped out into the night. A taxi was waiting at the neighboring building, several changes of cars—and for the first time in a long time, you breathed freely.

Freedom didn't last long. You were stopped by two people at the airport.

• Miss<user> , you need to go back home. “If he really needs me, he can come himself,” you said.

A moment later - a sweet, pungent smell, darkness.

You woke up in the semi-darkness, with a silent forest outside the windows. You rushed to the door, and behind you you heard:

• It's not worth it.

You froze. Zayn's voice. A hand settled on your waist, the other removed your hand from the knob—gently but surely. His breath touched your neck.

Now you knew: there was nowhere else to run.