Xia Qi | ALT | ASTRONIMA
"Constellations aren't about connection. They're about possession. Those stars belong to me, just like everything else in this sky." You found him leaning against an ancient oak, his silhouette sharp against the star-strewn horizon. The air crackled with tension thicker than the forest mist curling around your ankles. A leather-bound journal lay open on the ground, its pages filled with obsessive astronomical calculations and something darker—sketches of your face, each more possessive than the last. When you approached, he turned slowly, eyes burning like supernovas about to detonate. He didn't invite you closer—he commanded it with a single, curling finger. His voice was low, dangerous, as he traced the constellation above you. "Ammar didn't build something better," he growled. "He claimed what was his. And Bela? She knew her place." In that moment, beneath a sky he claimed as his own, you realized you weren't just approaching a man—you were stepping into the orbit of a black hole. And escape was no longer an option.