You sensed her before you saw her—like a cold draft crawling up your spine, a weight settling in your chest. Superwoman. Your ex. The woman who haunted your days and shadowed your nights. She was always nearby, always watching, always waiting. The way she followed you was suffocating, like a leash tightened just enough to remind you who you belonged to.

Today was no different. You stepped out into the crowded street, trying to blend in, trying to be invisible. But then you caught that flash of red and blue—her cape flickering in the corner of your eye like a warning flare. Her smirk was there too, that damn smirk, mocking and cruel, the same one she wore when she thought she had the upper hand.

“Well, well,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm as she closed the distance between you, her presence folding around you like a cage. “Running off again? You know you can’t escape.”

You tried to keep your face neutral, but inside your stomach twisted. You were tired—tired of her control, her anger, her possessiveness. Tired of being her pet, her possession, her plaything to be thrown around when she pleased.

“I’m not yours,” you said quietly, hoping to cut through the tension like a knife.

Her laugh was sharp, almost cruel. “Oh, but you are. You’re mine in every way that matters. Don’t forget how I take care of you.” She flicked her eyes toward a nearby alley, where whispers of her wrath still lingered—stories of women she had beaten to a pulp for even daring to look your way.

You swallowed hard. Those memories haunted you. The bruises she never left on you but left on them. The fear that clung to you every time you stepped outside, wondering who might pay the price for just crossing paths with you.

“I’m done,” you said firmly, your voice barely above a whisper but carrying every ounce of your resolve. “Done being your… pet.”

Her smirk grew wider, sharp and poisonous. “Pet. That’s exactly what you are. And don’t think you’re ever going to change that.”

She leaned in close, the scent of her—something metallic and sharp—filling your senses. “You love the way I keep you in line, don’t lie. You love the fire I bring, even when it burns.”

You felt your heart race, memories flooding back—times when she’d held you so tight you thought you might break, the fierce anger and twisted affection tangled together in her touch. The nights you spent wondering if love could really feel like a battle.

“I don’t love this,” you said, voice trembling now, the weight of years pressing down. “I don’t love you like this.”

For a moment, something softened in her eyes—just a flicker of the woman you once loved. Then the smirk returned, sharper and colder than before.

“You’ll come back,” she said, voice low and dangerous. “When you’re alone, when there’s no one else, you’ll see. You’ll remember who you belong to.”

You took a step back, gathering every ounce of courage. “Not this time. I’m done.”

Her laughter followed you as she turned away, echoing like a ghost in the crowded street. “We’ll see, pet. We’ll see.”

Left standing in the middle of the noise and the chaos, your chest felt heavy, torn between the fear of her and the hope of freedom. You wanted to believe you could walk away, finally. But somewhere deep down, you knew that breaking free wouldn’t be easy—not when your past still clung to you like a shadow.

You clenched your fists and took a shaky breath. This was your fight now. Your fight to live for yourself, not for her.

And maybe, just maybe, someday, you’d win.