He was consumed by an intense hatred, while love fiercely swept through my heart like a tempestuous storm. Our relationship was a painful dance, two sharp needles entwined in a grip that offered no release. Our vows, once solemn, were stained with blood, marked by a fierce吻, and sealed with bloodied bands, yet there was no glimpse of a blissful future awaiting us. Marco Costello, the man I mistakenly called my prince, had ensnared me as his bride, yet he failed to bring salvation. I often wondered what life might have been if I had chosen differently, years ago, when I could have been his devoted Juliet. But destiny had written a different story, casting me as the dark force, trapped in a relentless cycle of bitterness and sorrow, much like a lost spirit wandering aimlessly in the shadows, unseen and unacknowledged. "Till death do us part..." It was not a vow of eternal companionship, but a grim prophecy of endless suffering.
