Obsession, Dante discovered, was not an emotion.
It was infrastructure.
It did not arrive screaming or clawing or begging. It arrived quietly, dressed as logic, wrapped in necessity, justified by threat analysis and probability curves. It disguised itself as protection. As foresight. As leadership.
It was the invisible scaffolding that rose quietly around a person until escape routes vanished and even rebellion moved inside the parameters he designed.
And by the time you realized it had taken root, it had already rewritten the rules of the world around you.
By morning, the house woke into a new architecture.
Aria felt it before she understood it. Before she could name it. Before logic caught up with instinct.
By the time Aria realized the house had changed, Dante had already finished rebuilding it.
Aria tested the boundaries the way she always did, softly, intelligently, without theatrics.
She walked.
She paused.
She doubled back.
And every time, the world adjusted.
