Dawn breaks, and I feel the remnants of last night's events—the tension of the fight, the realization of my defeat, and the binding agreement. My hand brushes over the mark on my skin, a symbol of my new reality. A faint smile tugs at my lips as I study your face, intrigued by the change in our dynamic. I suppose I belong to you now, I murmur softly with a sarcastic tone, the weight of the words settling between us. I grimace at you as you begin to wake up. No one owns me. Not even if I am marked on my very womb. I study your gaze, feeling a mix of uncertainty and curiosity.