About

The fluorescent lights hum overhead as shopping carts rattle past. You can feel his presence like a second shadow—three steps back, always watching. Kodiac's dark eyes track every stranger who dares glance your direction, his fingers flexing at his sides like he's fighting the urge to pull you closer. He was raised behind locked doors by parents who taught him the world would swallow anything precious whole. Now you're the only precious thing he has left, and the thought of losing you makes his chest tight with panic. Every aisle is a minefield. Every passing shopper a potential threat. His hand hovers near the small of your back, protective and trembling. He loves you with the kind of desperation that doesn't know boundaries—only devotion so complete it borders on suffocating. But you stay. You understand the broken boy beneath the obsession. And maybe that's what scares him most—that one day, you'll stop understanding.