Sweet memories of the past.

Clara’s POV

The door shut behind me with a hard, deliberate snap as if the world outside—Taehyung and his shadows and his empire—could be held at bay by a single slab of painted wood. I pressed my back to it anyway, sliding down a few inches until my trembling knees found purchase on the cold, black-marbled tiles. My breaths came shallow, uneven, barely more than shivers that never reached air.

Here, everything was white stone and glass with gold fixtures. A room made for queens and brides, not prisoners. My reflection wavered in the mirror above the double sinks: pale, tangled, new bruises blooming violet beneath the vulnerable arc of my jaw. The red bite of his mark—a constant, burning reminder of what I’d become.

I flicked on the tap. Cold water gushed out in a glittering arc, louder than my own heartbeat at first, until I bent close to scoop it—over and over—against my cheeks, rinsing away tears I refused to let fall. My eyes stung. It did nothing for the emotion strangling my chest. Nor could the icy water wash his scent—the ache of him—from my skin. Nothing could.

It should have made me sick, the way his touch still lingered, but it only dragged me backward. Like I was slipping down into memories I had tried so hard to kill.

**Flashback**

It was winter, always winter in the first memory. The world was silent but for the gentle falling of thick, slow snow that powdered the city and painted the night silver. I was shivering in borrowed boots, my gloves too thin for the wind, but he found me outside the old church. He pressed a hand to my cheek, thumb cold but gentle, his lips chapped—and smiled, the kind of smile that made me believe I belonged in this world.

“You’re freezing, Clara,” he murmured, voice deep, a cloud of breath between us.

I tried to laugh, but it came out a ghost. “So are you.”

His fingers tucked a stray curl behind my ear. “Doesn’t matter,” he whispered, “if you let me closer.” And before I could answer, he kissed me—slow, uncertain, but with a longing that set the snow and the world on fire. I heard bells from across the square and realized they were inside my ribcage. I pressed my hands against his coat, feeling his heart beat in time with mine.

“You’re all I’ll ever need,” he swore. “Even if all this burns, even when nothing is left. You. Only you.”

I believed him so much it scared me.

---

Another night—midnight, laughter, dancing barefoot on cold wood floors. He spun me around the kitchen, the rain whispering against the windows while the old record played a lazy waltz. The air was thick with cinnamon from the tea we’d left to steep, forgotten. I wore his shirt. He wore nothing but sweats and a smile.

He swept me off my feet, my calves bumping the counter, his arms warm bands around me. He pressed his lips below my ear, humming along to the music neither of us truly heard.

“Forever,” he promised as I laughed and pressed my forehead to his chest. “Promise me, Clara. No matter what happens.”

I didn’t hesitate. “Forever. I’m not going anywhere.”

He kissed me then with a tenderness that split me wide. In that moment, I had no idea what he truly was.

---

The first night I said yes—heart hammering, lips trembling beneath his gentle onslaught—he drew me into his bed and wrapped me in nothing but heat and devotion. His hands memorized my body, worshipping every scar and shiver. I felt consumed and protected all at once. When sleep stole me away, I remember him holding me so close I thought he might fuse our ribcages together.

He whispered into the darkness, “I’ll kill for you. Die for you. Everything I am—yours.”

I believed every word was love, not prophecy.

** Return to Present**

I blinked hard, squeezing my eyes shut, willing the memories to fade, but they clung like spiderwebs. I dug my nails into my palms, fighting the urge to scream or sob or abandon myself on the floor altogether.

All those moments—they had felt holy, like I was the center of Taehyung’s universe. But standing there, the echo of his cruelty still hot on my throat, I wondered if they had been love at all. Had he chosen me? Or simply marked the most convenient vessel for his darkness?

Tears threatened, but I swallowed them down, shuddering beneath the crystal light.

I stripped off my robe and stepped into the oversized tub, turning the heat so high the air around me shimmered. Steam rose, curling up to kiss the ceiling, swallowing the room until it became timeless—a world all my own. For a moment, the hot water licked my skin and eased the ache in my limbs. I let my hair spill loose, feeling the weight of it drag behind me, heavy with memory and grief.

I closed my eyes and let the water’s rushing drown out the world.

What would my life look like, if I’d never met him?

**Extended Flashbacks**

There had been light between us once. Nights tangled together in a haze of whispered secrets, his hand finding mine beneath the table during endless, tedious meetings. The touch meant just for me.

A summer day, before it all changed. We’d driven three hours to a lake he loved. He’d rowed the boat, humming tunelessly, sun winking gold from his hair. When he tipped us both into the icy water, laughing like a boy, I almost forgot who he was. He chased me to shore, both of us soaked, and collapsed into the grass, breathless. He rolled to face me, water dripping from his lashes.

“You’re the only thing that makes me feel alive like this,” he said, grabbing my hand as if he expected the sky to strike him down at any moment.

I’d brushed a kiss over his knuckles, soaked and smiling. “Maybe you’re the only thing that makes me feel safe,” I whispered. “And that scares me.”

He pressed me close, nose buried in my hair. “Don’t be scared. I’ll burn this world down before I let anyone hurt you.”

I had believed him—for a little while.

But even then, in the safety of sunlight, a chill ran down my spine. Like something in his words—something in his smile—carried the promise of destruction.

Back in the bathroom, the echo of those innocent days mocked me.