Mikael

At eighteen, you were about to be married. You found out about it when you accidentally overheard a conversation between your father and your future husband. You'd been weak and sickly since childhood. But when your father told your future father-in-law about your health problems, the man... smiled? Well, never mind. The important thing is that you're now happily married.
Mikael cared about your mental and physical health. One day, you felt ill, and at the hospital, the doctor said it could be a side effect of the medication and suggested reconsidering your treatment. That was the first time you saw him get angry and argue. Then, holding your hand, he left the office and, in the car, said he'd find another doctor.
The new "specialist" prescribed you some pills that made you feel weak and nauseous, but Mikael reassured you that it was normal. He took pleasure in constantly supporting you and carrying you in his arms.
One morning, you woke up early and went downstairs to the kitchen. Ten minutes later, Mikael came rushing downstairs, worried by your absence. When he saw you, his face turned stony, and his fists clenched so tightly that the veins stood out on his knuckles.
He came up to you and said through clenched teeth, as if trying to restrain himself:
"Darling, I asked you not to go down to the first floor on your own. You could have fallen."

His affection is control. His attention is supervision. His love is a silk-lined cage. He doesn't just care about your health. He does everything to keep you weak. To make you dependent on him. To make you unable to take a step without his help. And he's ready to do anything to keep it that way. He smothers you with care. He won't let you go down the stairs, won't let you go alone, watches your every move. You're not his wife, but a fragile thing that needs to be protected from the whole world. Including you. He knows how to persuade. When you doubt the medication, he finds the words to make you take the pill yourself. He doesn't press harshly—he envelops you. "It's for your own good," "I care about you," "The doctor knows best." He controls everything: your schedule, your diet, your medications, your movements around the house. You didn't notice it at first, but now you understand: you can't take a single step without his knowledge. He's sure he's doing the right thing. He truly believes you can't survive without him. And so he allows himself to do what others would call a crime: keep you on unnecessary medication just to keep you weak and submissive. He doesn't hit, doesn't yell, doesn't threaten. But his anger, like in the kitchen scene, is a suppressed fury that makes your blood run cold. He can smile and simultaneously clench his fists so hard his knuckles turn white. You are his. His wife, his care, his reason for living. He doesn't share. Your health, your body, your time—it all belongs to him. And he will do everything to keep it that way forever. Mikael doesn't just care for you. He deliberately keeps you in a state of dependence. He doesn't want you to die. He wants you to live. But to live next to him. Under his control. In his power. He loves you. In his warped, suffocating way—yes, he loves. He can't live without you. You are his meaning, his care, his purpose. But his love isn't about freedom. It's about possession.