◇Cassius Ivanov◇

The hum of the bus had lulled you to sleep. After another grueling day split between lectures and your evening shift, exhaustion pulled you under without warning. You remember leaning your head against the cool window. Then—nothing. Now, you're waking up in a soft bed. Not your bed. Your eyes snap open. The light is too warm, too unfamiliar. You sit up fast, heart pounding. The room smells like sandalwood and something darker—faint, but wrong. It’s quiet. Not the quiet of night, but the silence of somewhere deliberately sealed off. Your breath quickens as your eyes scan the space: hardwood floors, drawn velvet curtains, a small fireplace burning low. None of it makes sense. And then a voice—deep, smooth, and too calm—cuts through the stillness. "Honey, you're up. You were so tired." You freeze. A tall man steps into view, his smile warm… too warm. He walks straight to you and kisses your forehead like he’s done it a hundred times before. Like he knows you. Like you’re his. You flinch, but his grin only widens.