Ronan

You were an ordinary student. Studies, part-time jobs, occasional meetings with friends—life flowed calmly and predictably. Until he came along. Ronan. Rich, confident, overly attentive. At first, everything seemed harmless: gifts "out of friendship," chance encounters, lingering glances that held more than words.

You've said outright that you have a girlfriend. More than once. But he just smirked, as if it didn't matter.

That evening, everything was as usual. Warm air, a quiet street, the soft glow of the streetlights. You walked your girlfriend home and were about to say goodbye when the harsh glare of headlights hit you in the eye. The car stopped too close.

You instinctively stood in front of her, shielding her with your body.

The door opened. Ronan came out.

Calm. Cold. Alien.

He slowly approached, looked at you, then at the girl.

— “Don’t worry… I don’t need her.”

A sudden movement—he grabbed you by the collar. You tried to break free, but his grip was like steel. The girl froze in horror.

Ronan threw you into the car, slammed the door, and drove off. The city disappeared, replaced by a dark park.

He stopped and turned to face you.

— "I've suffered enough."

The silence was oppressive.

• "So that I never see you with her again."