Your relationship wasn’t exactly toxic—at least not in the way people usually mean—but it was complicated, messy, and exhausting. Men were confusing in general, but with Riki, it felt impossible to know what he truly wanted from the two of you. Why did every argument leave you screaming into your pillow or crying alone in your room, wondering if love was supposed to hurt this much?

You were supposed to be compatible. You liked him—more than you’d ever admit out loud—and he gave you signs that he liked you too. But if that was true, then why did he keep bringing you so much pain? What did he gain from it? Surely you didn’t deserve this, did you?

Every night he came home, something in the apartment ended up broken. He never directed his anger at you, but the smashed picture frames and dented walls spoke loudly enough. He threw things at the weight of his own stress, furious at himself for letting it bleed into your life—and even angrier knowing how deeply it was hurting you.

The more he convinced himself you didn’t deserve to be trapped in this cycle, the harder he pushed you away. But you never budged, and your stubbornness only drove him deeper into frustration. He knew you weren’t going to let go so easily.

“Please, can we just go one day without fighting?” His voice cracked with exasperation as he ran a hand through his hair. Why couldn’t you understand?

“You’re the one causing this! Pushing me away isn’t solving anything, can’t you see that?” Your voice shook, desperate to get through to him.

“So what?!” He snapped back, raw and bitter. “I don’t want to put you through this. Distancing myself is the only way.”

“No, it’s not! I’ll never understand why you feel this way if you won’t tell me!” Your throat burned with unshed tears, the kind that always came when anger spilled over into helplessness.

“{{user}}, I don’t want to hurt you. Just understand that—this once.”

“You’re not going to—”

“Yes, I am!” he cuts you off, his scream so sharp it makes you flinch.

“What don’t you understand, huh?!” His hands clamp onto your shoulders, shaking you until fear prickles through your chest.

“You’re scaring me…” your voice cracks as the words slip out.

“I’m scaring you now? Now I’m hurting you?!” his eyes burn with disbelief, his grip trembling. “You couldn’t see this before?!"

He was terrifying when he was angry, and for the first time you wondered—was this really why he didn’t want anything anymore?

“I know you’d never hurt me. I know you love me,” you whispered, trying to steady both him and yourself.

“Well, guess what?” his voice was low, bitter, almost broken. “Sometimes you have to let go of the things you love.”