He adjusted his tie, his fingers smoothing over the crisp fabric as he stared at himself in the mirror. The reflection looking back at him was composed, calm—almost too calm for the storm brewing inside. His gaze dropped to the file resting on the table beside him. A slow smirk curled at the corner of his lips. Everything was falling into place.His fingers traced the edges as satisfaction curled in his chest. Everything was turning in his favor. Just as he had planned.

With that thought, he turned away, stepping toward the tall bookshelf in the corner of his room. His fingers moved with practiced ease, pulling a single book slightly back. A soft click echoed through the silence before the hidden door before him creaked open. Darkness loomed beyond the threshold, but he stepped inside with unwavering certainty. His world. His sanctuary.

The walls were a shrine—an altar dedicated to her.

Photographs covered every inch of the space, an endless display of the woman who consumed his every thought. Sofi’s smile, frozen in candid moments, was pinned across the walls. Some were stolen glances he had captured in secret—her laughter under the golden sunlight, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the peaceful stillness of her sleeping form. Others were more intimate, pieces he had cut directly from his own wedding album. The one where she had smiled the brightest, standing there, unaware that she had already belonged to him.

The walls whispered his torment.

Scrawled across them in bold, uneven letters were the words he had bled over the years:

I love you. You are making me crazy.

I hate you.

Why can’t you see me more than your brother-in-law?

The ink was smudged in places, as if his hands had trembled while writing, emotions clawing their way out of him with raw desperation. The conflicting messages screamed in their intensity—one moment love, the next hate. A war he had long lost to her without her even knowing.

His breath deepened as he stepped further inside, his fingers trailing over the edges of a frame—his favorite picture. A close-up of her, eyes shimmering with happiness, lips curved in a soft smile. She had looked like that on his wedding day—his wedding, not hers. The day she was supposed to be his, but wasn’t.

Anger flickered in his chest. His fingers twitched, a sudden urge to rip the photo from its place, but he resisted. He could never hurt her. Even when she hurt him every single day by simply existing beyond his reach.

His gaze dropped to the table in the center of the room. A dozen objects lay there—things he had collected over time. A single strand of her hair he had found on the couch, the tissue she had used once, a lipstick he had stolen from her bag, a piece of fabric from a dress she had worn. His fingers ghosted over them, reverence in his touch.

“You have no idea, do you?” he murmured, eyes fixed on her face in the photographs. “No idea how much you consume me.”

He turned, eyes settling on the biggest piece in the room—the mirror. It wasn’t an ordinary mirror. No, it reflected something far more precious.

Her room.

His greatest treasure.

The hidden camera he had placed allowed him to see everything—every move she made, every breath she took when she was in that room. It was his favorite pastime, watching her through that mirror, pretending she was right in front of him, so close yet so far.

He saw everything from here,  the way her fingers toying with the hem of her dress, lost in thought , the way she pressed her lips together, the way she brushed her hair behind her ear , the way she looks at her favorite thing .If only she looked at him like that.

But she didn’t.

She never did.

She does, but not in the way he wants. She admires him and thinks well of him, but that’s not enough for him. He wants her to look at him with love in her eyes, just as he loves her.

On the screen She was still sleeping, her face serene, completely unaware that he was watching. He leaned forward, his breath hitching as he traced his fingers over her image on the screen. How could she sleep so peacefully while he was drowning in his longing for her?

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t see it yet, but you will.”

His fingers clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms as the possessiveness burned brighter inside him. No one could take her away from him. No one deserved her but him. She was his. His alone.

His jaw tightened, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. His voice was soft, almost tender. “I won’t let anyone else have you, Sofi. You were always mine.”

He stepped back, his fingers brushing against the notes scattered on the table. Some were love letters he had written but never sent. Others were torn pages filled with his frustrations, his anger, his obsession.

The line between love and madness had blurred a long time ago.

But it didn’t matter.

Because soon, very soon, she would know.

She would see that she was never meant to be anyone else’s.

Only his.

___

Lucifer stepped out of the hidden room, and as the door shut behind him, the book he had pulled automatically slid back into place, seamlessly blending into the bookshelf.

A smirk tugged at his lips as his gaze lingered on the book—an old French literature volume, something he knew Ella had absolutely no interest in. That alone made him feel at ease, knowing his secret lay hidden in plain sight, right before her eyes.

"Even if she finds out, I don’t care," he mused darkly, his smirk widening. "It’ll only make things easier for me."

With that thought lingering in his mind, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, his steps calm yet purposeful.

***

Darkness stretched endlessly before her. Then, the sudden hum of whispers filled the air, rising like a growing storm. Sofi stood in the middle of the college hallway, her hands trembling at her sides. Eyes—so many eyes—pierced through her, their stares burning into her skin.

Laughter echoed, sharp and cruel. It came from every direction, bouncing off the walls like a twisted melody of humiliation.

“There she is.”
“The bride who couldn’t even make it past her wedding night.”
“Got knocked up by a monster, and now she thinks she can just come back like nothing happened?”

Sofi took a step back, her breath shallow, but the floor beneath her seemed to stretch endlessly. The walls pressed in, the whispers turning into mocking voices, then full-fledged laughter.

A girl with perfect hair and cold eyes sneered. “She probably deserved it.”
Another voice—familiar, cruel—muttered, “Maybe she even wanted it.”

The words clawed at her skin, invisible hands gripping her throat. She tried to speak, to defend herself, but nothing came out. Her voice was stolen.

The laughter grew, faces morphing into grotesque shadows. Her stomach churned. Her body screamed at her to run, but her legs wouldn’t move.

Then, Kevin stepped forward from the crowd, his smirk dripping with malice. “What did you expect, Sofi?” His voice was smooth, cutting. “Did you think they’d welcome you back with open arms? A woman like you… tainted, ruined.”

She gasped, her hands trembling as they clutched her belly.

The voices became a deafening roar. “She’s disgusting.” “She should have disappeared.” “Why is she even here?”

Her vision blurred. She was drowning in shame, in judgment. The air was too thick, suffocating. Her hands grasped at her chest, struggling to find a breath, to escape—

And then—

Sofi jolted awake.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her heart hammering so hard it echoed in her ears. Her body was drenched in sweat, her nightgown clinging to her skin. Her hands dug into the sheets as she sat up, knees pulled close to her chest.

The room was silent. Too silent.

Her mind still echoed with their laughter, their accusations.

She stared blankly at the darkness ahead, the horror of her dream refusing to fade.

It wasn’t her fault.

She knew that.

But if she knew… then why she was doubting it?

***

Ella hesitated outside Sofi’s room before finally pushing the door open. She expected to see her sister getting ready, but instead, she found Sofi sitting on the bed, lost in thought, her gaze fixed on the floor. The light from the window cast a soft glow on her pale face, but her eyes—lifeless and empty—told a different story.

Ella stepped inside, sighing. “Sofi, get up. Lucifer is on his way to pick you up. Get ready, or you’ll be late for college.”

Sofi didn’t move. She didn’t even blink.

“Sofi,” Ella called again, a bit firmer this time.

A long silence stretched between them before Sofi finally spoke, her voice hollow. “You lied to me, Ella.”

Ella frowned, confused. “About what?”

Sofi still didn’t look at her. Her lips curled in a humorless smile. “That I’m not disgusting.”

Ella’s heart clenched. “Sofi—”

“Kian was right,” Sofi whispered, her voice shaking. “I really am disgusting.”

Ella felt her breath hitch. “Why are you saying this?” she asked, stepping closer.

Sofi finally turned to her, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Because that’s exactly what they’ll say when I step outside.”

Ella’s chest tightened as Sofi let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “They’re going to call me disgusting. They’re going to whisper behind my back. No, not whisper. They’ll say it out loud. They’ll mock me, humiliate me. They’ll say I deserved it. That I asked for it. That I must have done something to make him do that to me. That I must have been having an affair and then decided to marry a rich guy. And now? Now I’m pregnant. Not married, just pregnant.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and her breathing grew unsteady. “They’re going to make fun of me, Ella. They’re going to say I ruined Kian’s life, that I brought this upon myself.”

Ella stood frozen, unsure of how to respond. The weight of Sofi’s words crushed her, the pain in her voice making it hard to breathe.

Sofi’s hands clutched the fabric of her dress as her shoulders trembled. “This is why you want me to go out, isn’t it? So I can face this humiliation?”

“No, Sofi! That’s not it at all,” Ella said quickly, shaking her head. “No one is going to judge you. Why would they?”

Sofi’s bloodshot eyes locked onto hers. “Why wouldn’t they?” Her voice was almost a whisper, but the raw emotion behind it made it deafening. “I got raped on my wedding day, Ella. And now, I’m carrying his child. His. Do you think the world will be kind to me?”

Ella felt her throat close up as Sofi’s tears finally spilled over. Her body shook violently as sobs racked through her, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Ella rushed forward, pulling her into a tight hug. “Sofi—”

“I don’t want this,” Sofi choked out, gripping Ella’s shirt as though she were holding on for dear life. “I don’t want this humiliation. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault, Ella.”

“It wasn’t,” Ella whispered, stroking Sofi’s back gently. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Then why does it feel like it is?” Sofi sobbed. “Why does it feel like I’m being punished for something I didn’t do?”

Ella pulled back just enough to look at her sister’s tear-streaked face.

Sofi’s lips quivered. “Why did he do this to me, Ella?” Her voice cracked under the weight of her pain. “What did I do to deserve this? I never hurt anyone. I never wished bad for anyone. Then why—why did he ruin me like this?”

Ella cupped her face gently. “You didn’t deserve this, Sofi.”

“Then why do I feel like I do?” Sofi whispered. “Why do I feel like everyone will see me as dirty… as damaged?”

Ella’s heart ached at the hopelessness in her voice. She wished she had the right words, the magic words that could erase Sofi’s pain. But there were no such words. So instead, she pulled Sofi back into her arms, holding her as tightly as she could.

Sofi’s sobs grew harsher, her body trembling violently. “I don’t want to go out there, Ella. I can’t face them. I can’t take their judgment, their whispers, their pity. I just can’t.”

Ella squeezed her eyes shut, pressing a kiss to the top of Sofi’s head. “Then don’t. Not yet. Not until you’re ready.”

Sofi sniffled. “Will I ever be ready?”

Ella pulled away, wiping the tears from her sister’s face. “You will. One day. But until then, I’ll stand beside you. I won’t let anyone hurt you, Sofi. I swear.”

Sofi stared at her, as if searching for something—perhaps hope, perhaps reassurance. Then, finally, she nodded, her body still trembling but her grip on Ella tightening just a little.

Ella exhaled, holding her close again, knowing that Sofi needed more than just comforting words. She needed strength. She needed time. She needed healing. And most of all, she needed to believe that she wasn’t alone.

And Ella would make sure she never felt alone again.

***

The room was filled with an unsettling silence. Sofi lay motionless on the bed, her face turned toward the window, her eyes open yet empty. She wasn’t sleeping—just staring, lost in a void of thoughts she couldn't escape. Ella sat beside her, watching her with concern, but there was nothing she could say that would pull Sofi out of the abyss she had fallen into.

A soft breeze pushed the curtains aside, letting in the daylight that felt too bright for such a dark moment. Ella sighed , glancing toward the door. That was when she saw him—Lucifer. He was walking toward the room.

She glanced at Sofi once more before quietly stepping out of the room to meet him.

“Is she ready?” he asked

Ella shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Lucifer exhaled sharply. He took a step forward, closer to the door, watching Sofi from a distance.

His jaw clenched at the sight of her. Something about the way she lay there, so lifeless, so broken, made something inside him twist in a way he didn’t like.

She was sleeping peacefully , when I saw her he muttered under his breath

Ella sighed. “She’s shutting down, Lucifer.”

Lucifer turned his attention to her, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“She needs help,” Ella continued, her voice filled with desperation. “She’s blaming herself for everything. I can’t—I don’t know what to do anymore. She needs someone who can help her before she does something she can’t take back.”

Lucifer remained silent, his jaw tightening.

“She needs a psychiatrist,” Ella pressed. “She’s getting worse . You saw her. She can’t keep living like this. I don’t want to wake up one day and—” She cut herself off, swallowing hard. “I can’t risk it. We can’t risk it.”

Lucifer’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. For the first time, doubt crept into his usually controlled demeanor.

“She won’t,” he finally said, but there was no real conviction in his voice.

“We can’t be sure of that,” Ella argued.

Lucifer clenched his fists. He hated this. Hated seeing Sofi like this. Hated that he had no control over the situation. He didn’t like the idea of psychiatrists or therapy. But what choice did they have? If this continued, Sofi would—

“I’ll talk to her,” he said suddenly, his voice firm.

Ella looked at him hopefully. “She’ll listen to you.”

Lucifer didn’t respond immediately.The thought of losing her, after everything, was something he couldn’t bear.

Target : 50 votes and 10 comments

(If we reach the targeted votes by the tomorrow morning, I will update in the morning itself ; otherwise, I’ll update at night. But I hope we reach it soon, or else I’ll get a headache and feel discouraged. 🥲)

Author's Note: Lucifer is playing with fire. What if Ella, one day, tries to grab a book and pulls that one… and then 🥲😅 lol.