Prologue

She sat in her bridal dress, bound to a chair, her hands tied behind her back. He was so close to her, his eyes burning with an anger that sent chills down her spine. She shivered uncontrollably under his intense gaze, terrified by his behavior. As much as she wanted to look away, she couldn’t bring herself to break eye contact with him.

"I will make you endure an endless torment " he hissed, his voice laced with venom. "You'll be desperate to die, begging for it, but I won’t let you go easily. I'll kill you just like you killed my brother "

His words were so full of rage that she could feel the hatred radiating from him. She tried to stay strong, to fight the terror clawing at her heart, but his fury was suffocating.

"Take your revenge," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Kill us, if that's what will satisfy you. Do it." She tried to reason with him, but he was deaf to her pleas, consumed by his desire for vengeance. The guilt she carried for her ignorance, which had led to this tragedy, now weighed even heavier. His threats made her feel that death would be a mercy compared to living with such unbearable guilt.

"Kill both of you?" He scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt. "I won’t give you such an easy escape. To live in love together and die in love together? No, you don't deserve that. Only one of you will die—him."

He turned to leave, but her desperate voice stopped him.

"This happened because of me! Then kill me! Why should he suffer? Let him go, please!" she begged, her voice breaking.

"Don't act," he snarled, turning back to her. "I know your reality."

"But I'll give you a choice," he continued, his voice cold and calculating. "I’ve decided to kill both of you, but who should die first? I'll let you decide that."

She stared at him, horrified. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"If you want him to live," he said, leaning closer, his breath hot against her skin, "then you’ll listen to everything I say and do as I command."

She struggled to process his words, but what he said next left her reeling.

"You have to marry me," he declared.

She turned her face away in disbelief, trying to comprehend the madness of his demand. It felt like a twisted nightmare, but the coldness in his eyes told her he was deadly serious.

"You destroyed my family," he continued, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. "You took away the only person who mattered to me. Now, I’ll take away everything that matters to you. You think you can just walk away from this? No. I will make you suffer every day for what you’ve done. And the first step to that is marrying me."

The meaning behind his words hit her like a physical blow. He didn’t just want revenge; he wanted control, dominance, and a way to ensure she never escaped the consequences of her actions. This wasn’t about love or anything remotely close—it was about power, about making her life a living nightmare under his control.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "I won’t do it."

His eyes narrowed, and a twisted smile spread across his face, one that made her blood run cold. "Oh, you won’t?" he said softly, a sinister edge to his voice. "You think you still have a choice?"

He snapped his fingers, and one of his men stepped forward, holding a steel canister in his hand. The smell of gasoline filled the room as the man poured it over her fiancé, who was tied and unconcious on the floor.

"No! Stop!" she screamed, struggling against her restraints, but it was useless. The more she fought, the more helpless she felt.

"Here’s how this will go," he said, his voice calm, almost detached. "If you refuse me, I’ll burn him alive right in front of you. You’ll watch him suffer, hear him scream as the flames consume him, and smell his flesh as it burns. And when it’s over, you’ll be left with nothing but the memory of his agony."

She stared at him, horrified, unable to comprehend the depths of his cruelty. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a match, striking it with a flick of his wrist. The tiny flame danced in the air, casting a flickering light on his face.

"Last chance," he said, holding the match close to the gasoline-soaked man. "Marry me, or he dies—screaming, begging for mercy, while you do nothing but watch."

Tears streamed down her face as she watched the flame. The reality of what he was about to do sank in, and terror gripped her heart like a vise. Every second that passed felt like a lifetime, the match's flame dangerously close to igniting the gasoline. She could almost hear the horrifying screams in her mind, see the fire devouring him alive.

"No! Please! Please, don’t!" she sobbed, her voice breaking as pure panic took hold. "I’ll do it! I’ll marry you! Just don’t hurt him, I’m begging you!"

But he didn’t pull the match away. Instead, he lowered it closer, the flame just inches from the gasoline. She could see the fire reflecting in his cold eyes, his twisted enjoyment of her torment.

"I'm ready! I’ll marry you! Please, don’t do this!" she shrieked, her voice filled with absolute terror. Her entire body shook violently, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst. She could hardly breathe, every muscle in her body locked in fear.

He paused, studying her as if considering whether to spare the man or let him burn. Then, with deliberate slowness, he blew out the match and let it fall to the ground.

"Good," he said, his voice chilling in its satisfaction. "I knew you’d see reason."

She collapsed back into the chair, her body going limp as his men untied her. Her legs barely supported her as she stood, her knees weak, her hands trembling uncontrollably. She had never known fear like this—fear so deep it consumed her, leaving her a hollow shell. She had just agreed to live a life of unimaginable misery, but all that mattered now was that he was still alive. She could barely believe she had escaped the horror of what he had threatened, and the relief was almost as overwhelming as the fear had been.

As she stood, unsteady on her feet, he stepped closer, towering over her. His presence was suffocating, filling her with a dread so intense it made her stomach churn. He reached out with a slow, deliberate motion, tracing his fingers along her tear-streaked face. She flinched at his touch, her skin crawling, but she was too terrified to pull away. Instead, she clenched her fists behind her back, forcing herself to remain still, even as his fingers brushed away her tears with a mocking gentleness.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm and sickening against her ear, as he whispered, "Your name is Harman, isn’t it? How fitting. I’ll give meaning to that name. You will become Harman… ruined by love"

His words were laced with pure hatred, each syllable dripping with venom. The way he said it made her feel as though it was a curse, one that would haunt her forever. She felt the certainty in his voice, as if her fate was already sealed. More tears fell, her body trembling uncontrollably, as she realized the full extent of what was to come.

Author's Note:Oops, the prologue turned out a bit longer than I intended! I’m curious about your thoughts—do you think it was too detailed for a prologue, or did it set the stage for the story in a compelling way? I believe that even if it’s detailed, it can still be woven into the narrative in intriguing ways. I’d love to hear your feedback and see if you enjoyed it. Your insights mean a lot to me, so please let me know your thoughts, and don’t forget to vote if you liked it!
It’s actually too detailed; I can see it, feel it, and breathe it. But let it be this way. I can’t bring myself to cut it short—I feel like it would be unjust to the scene. Let me know, what you name it , prologue  or  glimpse?🙊😅