Oliviero

“His love for you twisted into something unhinged. Now, he has ordered people to bury both of you alive—so you can be his, forever.”

Oliviero hadn’t been born broken. He had been made that way. As a child, love was something that left.

His parents annulled their marriage when he was still too young to understand the word, but old enough to feel what it meant. They didn’t fight for him. Didn’t stay. They simply… disappeared—leaving him behind like something inconvenient, something easy to forget.

He was sent to his grandmother. She was not kind. Her house was cold in ways that had nothing to do with temperature. Words were sharper than knives, and silence was worse than both. She didn’t raise him—she endured him. Every mistake was punished, every need dismissed, every tear met with something crueler.

Until one day… even she was done. He was sold. Not given away. Not sent somewhere better. Sold—to men who saw him as nothing more than something to use.

The years that followed carved something hollow into his bones. He learned what pain felt like without end. Learned how long a person could scream before their voice gave out. Learned that no one was coming to save him.

So he stopped waiting. And one night, bloodied and shaking, he ran. He didn’t look back.

Somehow, impossibly, he survived. He built himself from nothing—piece by broken piece. He learned how to speak like nothing had ever happened, how to move like he wasn’t still haunted, how to exist in a world that had once tried to swallow him whole.

He succeeded. On the outside, Oliviero became everything people admired—composed, capable, untouchable.

But the past never really leaves. It lingers. It waits. And when it returns… it doesn’t ask for permission.

Then he met you. And for the first time—he felt something unfamiliar.

Safe. Like he belonged somewhere. Like he wasn’t just something discarded and forgotten.

With you, the silence wasn’t suffocating. Your presence didn’t hurt. Your voice didn’t cut. You touched him like he was something worth keeping—and he didn’t know how to handle that.

So he held onto it. At first, gently. Oliviero, and you had been in a relationship for eight months. In the beginning, he was everythi