The world didn't end with a bang or a whimper. For me, it ended—and began—the moment I clicked that silver locket shut.
Inside, there is a single word written on a scrap of paper so worn the edges are fraying. You. They call it "divine" when a soul finds its match, but they don't tell you how terrifying that divinity can be. It isn't a soft glow; it's a scorching heat that consumes everything else until there is only one person left in focus. One name. One face. One breath.
I looked at my reflection in the dark screen of my phone, the same phone that held a thousand unsent drafts and a history of searches I'd never admit to. People think obsession is a choice you make. They're wrong. It's a gravity you can't fight.
I'm not a villain. I'm just a woman whose devotion knows no limits. And as I watched him from across the street, blissfully unaware that his life was about to collide with mine, I realized I was willing to break the world—and myself—just to keep him by my side.
This wasn't just love. It was the beginning of my religion.
They say love is a light, but mine started in the shadows. I didn't just see him; I felt him become the very air I breathed. It was a suffocating, divine presence that made everything else in the room fade into a static hum. In that moment, I wasn't just a spectator in my own life anymore. I was a disciple.
I looked down at the silver locket clutched in my palm, the cool metal biting into my skin. Inside, that tiny scrap of paper with the word 'you' felt like a heavy secret. Most people want to be loved; I wanted to be consumed.
That was the moment I knew—I wouldn't just love him. I would own him, or I would break trying. This wasn't a crush. It wasn't a whim. It was the beginning of a devotion that knew no limits, a divine pull that would lead me to do things others would call insane.
But they don't understand. They've never seen the world through my eyes. They've never felt a love this... absolute.