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There was a time I thought death was the only thing that truly made sense.

I surrounded myself with it.

Talked about it.

Recorded it.

Analyzed it like it was the only constant in a world that never gave a damn about permanence.

Dead Wrong wasn’t just a podcast, it was my lifeline. It was how I screamed into the void without making a sound.

It was the only thing that didn’t leave.

Until he came.

Dorian Vale.

A man who looked like the end and tasted like salvation. A man with death under his fingernails and a soft spot buried beneath scars I still didn’t know the full story behind.

He changed everything. He didn’t just pull me from the darkness, I was the darkness. And he walked in anyway.

He didn’t try to fix me. He didn’t demand I heal. He simply stood there. Waited. Bled with me. Loved me in a way no one ever has.

Not with roses or promises, but with grit, with rage, with reverence.

And I?

I had never been the same.

I remembered the girl I was before him.

Lonely. Mouthy. Brilliantly broken. Recording stories of murder and monsters like it would stitch something back together.

I had no idea I was the story. That the thing I was always chasing… Was me.

I didn’t know I was a Watcher. Didn’t know the world needed me. Didn’t know the Veil would split open and drag hell through my front door.

And I didn’t know that loving someone like Dorian Vale would feel like finding breath for the first time.

He made it easy now. To exist. To love. To fight.

He called me his Little Thief. I called him my monster in a suit.

Together, we didn’t just survive, we punished the broken. We hunted nightmares, and we did it with blood on our boots and hope in our hearts.

It was ridiculous.

It was unhinged.

And it’s beautiful.

Sometimes, late at night, when the world was quiet and the weight of what’s coming pressed down on my chest like a warning, I reached for him.

Not because I was afraid.

But because he’s the reason I wasn’t anymore.

They say love was light.

But mine was forged in darkness. Wrapped in secrets. Held together by battle scars, blood vows, and the kind of devotion that terrified gods.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Because before Dorian, I existed.

But now?

Now I lived .