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She wasn't looking for trouble. He was the embodiment of it.

20-year-old Elena's life was ordinary—until a wrong turn down a dark alley brought her face-to-face with a man who radiated danger. Cold eyes. A cruel smirk. And a presence that made her blood freeze.

She thought it was over.

But he had already marked her.

Luca Romano doesn't believe in coincidence. When he saw her, something in him snapped. He began watching her, learning her every move, craving her innocence like an addict.

When their paths cross again, it isn't by accident.

He wants her. And Luca always gets what he wants.

A tale of obsession, control, and the blurred lines between love and possession

His Slient Mark

2 weeks passed in a strange, aching silence.

Elena couldn't bring herself to tell anyone about what happened that night—not Liam, not her classmates, not even herself. She replayed the memory in fragments. His breath on her neck. The weight of his body. The way he looked at her afterward, like it would ruin him to leave.

Not a call. Not a text. Not a shadow outside her window.

At first, she tried to tell herself it was just another dream—one of those tangled fantasies she'd kept buried for weeks. But every time she woke up in the middle of the night, her body aching and sore, she knew it was real. He'd touched her. He'd kissed her. He'd left.

And now he was gone all over again.

Three days later, Elena stood in front of her bathroom mirror, pale and shivering.

She hadn't been feeling well—nausea in the mornings, the occasional dizzy spell, and a constant, dull ache low in her belly that made her nervous.

Her skin looked different. Softer. Almost glowing, though she hadn't slept properly in days.

Her fingers shook as she opened the bathroom cabinet and reached for her calendar.

She wasn't ready for this thought. Not now. Not yet.

She stared at the small mark on the calendar—the date that should've passed quietly—and felt the air leave her lungs.

She sat on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest, trying to steady her breath.

She hugged herself tighter and blinked back the tears threatening to spill. It wasn't just his disappearance that hurt—it was the silence. The uncertainty. The cruel possibility that he had walked away again, without even saying goodbye.

But a deeper part of her, a smaller, stubborn part, whispered something else.

The next morning, she bought a test.

Elena dropped it to the floor and sat frozen on the edge of her bed, hands trembling.

The room spun. Her chest heaved with a quiet sob.

She didn't scream. She didn't panic.

She just stared at the wall in front of her.

And the only man who had ever truly watched her—the only one who ever truly saw her—was gone.

Echoes