"I'm waiting, Sofi," he said, his voice sharp, laced with impatience.

Seconds stretched into minutes. His patience wore thin.

"Sofi," he called again, his tone darkening.

Silence.

His jaw clenched. "You're going to regret this."

Without another word, he stormed toward the washroom, ready to tear down whatever resistance she was putting up. But just as he reached for the door—

Click.

The handle turned.

The door creaked open, inch by inch.

Sofi stood there, hesitant. Her hand clenched the edge of the door too tightly . She swallowed hard, eyes darting to the floor as if willing it to swallow her whole.

She stepped out, slow, reluctant, her body stiff with discomfort.

His eyes dragged over her—unblinking, assessing.

The dress.

It was an off-shoulder bodycon, sleek and dangerously tight, hugging every curve like a second skin. The fabric, a deep burgundy, shimmered faintly under the light, clinging to her frame with sinful precision. The neckline dipped low, exposing her delicate collarbones and a scandalous amount of her chest, while the hemline barely grazed mid-thigh, revealing far too much of her legs. It wasn’t meant to be provocative, but on her, it left nothing to the imagination. I this this is working for me

But what made his jaw tighten, what made his fingers twitch at his sides, was the way she had tried to hide.

Her hair.

She had left it open, long strands cascading over her shoulders, an attempt—pathetic, useless—to conceal what the dress exposed.

His eyes darkened.

Before she could take another step, his grip locked around her arm, yanking her forward. She gasped, stumbling as he dragged her to the mirror.

"Look at yourself," he ordered, his voice cold, unrelenting.

She refused. Her head remained down, gaze fixed on the floor.

"Look at yourself," he repeated, voice sharper this time.

Still, she didn’t.

His patience snapped.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair, forcing her head up. "Open your eyes!" he barked.

She squeezed them shut tighter, her breath shuddering.

His grip on her hair tightened. "Why? Why are you hiding now?" he taunted. "When you bought this dress, did you not think about how you'd look in it?"

He reached for a clip on the dressing table.

Her heart pounded. "Please… leave my hair open," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.

A slow, mocking smirk curled on his lips. "Why? Now it’s making you uncomfortable? Now you want to hide?" His fingers worked through her strands, gathering them roughly. "Too late, Sofi."

He secured the clip, pulling her hair back, exposing every inch she had tried to shield.

Stepping behind her, he gripped both her arms, his hold firm, unyielding. His gaze burned into hers through the mirror.

"Look up," he commanded.

Her throat tightened. Slowly, hesitantly, she lifted her eyes.

And there she was.

Vulnerable. Exposed. Caught in the weight of his stare.

And trapped.

The mirror reflected her trembling form, the dim light casting eerie shadows across the room. She stood stiffly, hands curled into fists at her sides, her breath uneven. He was right behind her—towering, unrelenting, his presence suffocating her.

His gaze bore into her reflection, tracing every inch of the scandalous dress that clung to her like a second skin. The deep neckline, the sinful way it hugged her curves, the short hem teasing her bare thighs—it was all too much, too revealing, too tempting.

A muscle ticked in his jaw as his fingers trailed up her arm, slow and deliberate, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Look at you," he murmured darkly, voice laced with a dangerous edge. “Like you’re ready to be taken.”

Sofi's stomach churned. Disgust curled in her throat, her breath hitching as she turned her face away, repulsed.

But he caught it—the way her expression twisted, the way she flinched at his words.

His smirk was humorless, his grip tightening around her wrist. “Now it disgusts you, doesn’t it?” He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over her neck. “But tell me, Sofi—did it disgust you when you put it on? When you stepped out wearing it for the world to see?”

She stiffened, swallowing hard.

His fingers dug into her skin.

“Did you see the way they looked at you?” he hissed. “How their eyes devoured you? Or were you too busy enjoying the attention?”

She lowered her head, shame burning in her chest. She hadn't thought about that, hadn’t realized it.

His patience snapped.

With a sudden, harsh tug, he spun her around. She barely had time to gasp before her back hit the dressing table, his body caging her in. The wood bit into her spine, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his fury pressing against her.

Her hands shot up to his chest, a desperate attempt to create space between them, but he was relentless. His fingers gripped the back of her neck, his hold dangerously tight.

She sucked in a shaky breath, her pulse racing.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled against his grip, but he didn't let go. His fingers tightened, stealing the breath from her throat.

Her hands trembled against his chest, pushing weakly.

"Please..." she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes darkened.

“From now on,” he said, voice dripping with venom, “I never want to see you wearing anything like this again.”

His other hand trailed down her waist, gripping the fabric of her dress .

"I never imagined you like this, Sofi," he muttered, his expression twisting with something unreadable. "You're pure. And I’d like you to stay that way.”

Her heart clenched.

His fingers dug into her skin.

"I won't tolerate you acting like some—" he exhaled sharply, the muscle in his jaw clenching before he spat out the words, "—some cheap girl."

A sob escaped her lips.

He pulled her closer, crushing what little distance remained between them.

A gasp tore from her throat as her body pressed flush against his.

“Next time,” he murmured, his voice deadly soft, “before buying or wearing anything like this, think a hundred times.” His fingers trailed up her side, slow, deliberate, making her shudder in fear.

“Because I won’t warn you like this again.”

His grip on her neck tightened slightly, sending another wave of panic crashing through her.

Her vision blurred with tears.

“I won’t mind giving you a demonstration of the kind of thoughts that come to mind when I see you like this.”

A shudder ran down her spine.

And just like that—

In one swift, cruel motion—

He let her go.

Her legs nearly gave out, her breath ragged as she collapsed against the dressing table for support.

He took a step back, his eyes still burning into her, as if daring her to defy him.

She gulped, her hands shaking as she clutched the edge of the table, struggling to steady herself.

The tension in the air was unbearable.

"Don't ever push me again," he warned, his voice low and threatening.

Sofi didn’t respond—she couldn’t. Her throat was too tight with fear, her body frozen in place. Tears streamed down her face, but she made no effort to wipe them away.

With one last burning glance, he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him. The force of it sent a sharp echo through the room, making her flinch.

The moment he was gone, her legs gave out beneath her. She collapsed onto the floor, curling into herself. Her arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she buried her face against them, her sobs breaking free.

Her shoulders shook violently, her entire body wracked with pain and helplessness.

She had never felt so small.

So trapped.

So utterly alone.

End of Flashback

___

A single tear slipped from her eye, but before it could betray her, she wiped it away swiftly. Yet, no matter how quickly she erased it, she couldn’t wipe away the storm raging inside her. The silent cries, the suffocating weight in her chest—those remained.

He had been so mad at her. His voice, his touch, his grip—it all replayed in her mind like a nightmare she couldn’t wake from.

And after he left, the room had felt like a prison, its walls closing in on her, swallowing her whole. She hadn’t slept that night, not even for a moment. The fear clung to her like a second skin, its grip unrelenting.

She wanted to tell someone.

She wanted to tell her family.

But tell them what? How could she explain what had happened? The words refused to form, so she kept everything buried deep inside, locking it away where no one could reach it.

***

From a distance, he watched her.

She sat on a bench, her posture stiff, her hands gripping the fabric of her clothes as if holding herself together. The world moved around her, people talking, laughing, going about their day, but she sat frozen in place—lost.

Something was wrong.

"Hey, dude! Everyone is waiting. What are you doing sitting here?" His friend’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

He didn’t respond. His eyes remained fixed on her.

The friend followed his gaze, then smirked. "What are you looking at?" He leaned in slightly. "Oh, her? Don’t tell me you’re getting too interested in her."

Still, he said nothing.

His stare remained unbroken, observing every small movement she made. The way her fingers trembled slightly. The way she blinked too often, as if trying to hold something back.

"Why does she look so sad?" he muttered under his breath.

His friend shrugged. "Probably got her heart broken. Happens all the time."

His jaw clenched. No, this wasn’t just sadness.

"It’s not just that," he said, his voice quieter this time, more certain. "It’s not the kind of pain that comes from a broken heart… It’s something else. Something real."

His friend frowned, glancing between him and the girl. "You sound like you actually care."

He didn’t respond.

Because, for some reason, he did.

***

Lucifer was waiting outside her college, leaning against the car as the students poured out of the building. His eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on her. Sofi.

She walked toward him with slow, hesitant steps, her expression unreadable. Without a word, she opened the door and settled into the passenger seat.

He smiled at her, but she didn’t return it. Not even a glance in his direction.

His jaw tightened. He already knew the reason.

With a deep breath, he started the car. The hum of the engine filled the tense silence between them.

She stared straight ahead, hands resting stiffly in her lap, not saying a single word. Her silence wasn’t normal—it was heavy, deliberate. A quiet protest.

He stole a glance at her. Did I go too far? The thought lingered in his mind, but he quickly pushed it away.

No.

It was her fault.

She had pushed him to that point. If she hadn’t bought that dress, if she hadn’t he wouldn’t have had to do what he did.

And his woman in that kind of dress?

With other men’s eyes on her?

That was an absolute no.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Still, the silence was suffocating. He needed to break it.

"How was college?" he asked, keeping his tone casual.

"It was okay," she replied, her voice distant.

He glanced at her again. She still wasn’t looking at him.

"Are you alright?" he pressed.

No response.

His patience wavered.

"Why didn’t you pick up my calls yesterday?" Her voice held an edge now.

She finally turned toward him, her expression unreadable.

He watched her closely.

"You called? I didn’t see that," he said, pretending as if he truly had no idea.

"Something happened?"he asked .

He already knew what happened —he was the reason for it. But what he really wanted to know was… would she admit it? Would she tell him how much he had affected her?what happened last night ?

If she did, it would mean she is  not completely under his control.

And that? That wouldn’t do.

"I asked you something, Sofi," his voice dropped lower, firmer.

Before leaving last night, he had issued a warning—one she wouldn’t dare ignore.

"You won’t tell anyone I was here," he had said, his voice low and threatening. "And even if you do… what exactly will you say? That I was here to correct you? That I stopped you from dressing like a slut?"

His words had cut through her like a blade, cold and merciless. The weight of his gaze had pinned her in place, making it clear that this wasn’t just a warning—it was a command.

those words echoed in her mind.

She exhaled sharply, looking away.

"Nothing," she mumbled, but he caught the slight tremor in her voice. "I just… wanted to talk."

A lie.

A bad one.

She was never good at lying .