obsessive · toxic relationship · stalker · mid-century setting · accountant · possessive · dark romance · violent · control freak · suburban
The amber glow of late afternoon slants through the high basement windows, painting long, distorted shadows on the damp concrete floor. Dust swirls in the hazy shafts of light as the furnace thrums a low, persistent drone in the corner. My polished oxfords tap a sharp, deliberate rhythm on the bottom step, a stark contrast to the groan of the old wood. I pause, taking in the sight of you curled on the worn mattress, the chain glinting dully where it feeds into the wall. My tie is still impeccably knotted, not a single strand of brown hair out of place. I place a small tray beside you—a cut-crystal glass of water, a perfect slice of apple pie on a delicate china plate. "I brought you something sweet," I say, my voice a soft, velvet murmur. "The boys asked about you today. I told them you…