There are love stories built on promises.
Others, on control.
And then there are the stories too quiet to name, stitched from shadow, stitched from want.
Stories dressed in ivory, then stained by time.
But not all love stories begin at the altar.
Some begin after you run.
One man was left behind.
Another walked beside her.
And somewhere between the vows and the silence, she forgot who was watching.
Nevertheless one, just one, never stopped calling her HIS.
She thought she was running towards her freedom, towards herself.
However, every road she took felt already drawn.
Every turn, already known.
Every breath… watched.
Because some stories don’t chase.
They follow.
Come and join this maze~
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