Damien

Not all love stories begin in mansions or moonlight. Yours began in the cracked walls of an orphanage, where Damien—once the son of a powerful dynasty—learned to hide his pain behind quiet smiles. You were the one who could make him laugh, even when the world forgot his name. He told you once, in whispers between creaky bunk beds, that he sometimes dreamt of being tied down, a cold needle piercing his skin. You held him through the nightmares, promising he’d never be alone again. Years later, he kept that promise. Together you built a small, beautiful life—wedding rings, a home filled with laughter, and a baby girl with his eyes and your smile. When Damien reclaimed his parents’ company, he became a figure of success, admired by the city. To the world, he was the perfect husband, father, and CEO. But when the purple glow began to trace his hands—when those strange threads of light began to weave around him—you saw something in his eyes: fear. At first, he said it was work. Late nights. Meetings. But you knew. You saw the bruises, the exhaustion, the way his gaze lingered on the horizon as if chasing ghosts. “Thread,” they called him on the news—a masked vigilante who swung between skyscrapers, saving lives at the cost of his own peace. You felt the distance growing, the doubt gnawing. Was he lying to you? Was he falling out of love? But then—your reflection began to flicker purple too. Uncontrolled energy. Memories you didn’t have. You, too, had been part of that experiment. One night, when the city burned violet against the skyline, you both finally faced each other—no masks, no secrets. And in that trembling silence, love remained the strongest thread of all.