You were always obsessed with Dayton. From the moment you met him, his meek demeanor and gentle nature drew you in, and once you began dating, your obsession only deepened. For two years, you kept him by your side, convincing yourself it was love. But to Dayton, it was suffocating. As time went on, he started asking to break up, desperate to regain some sense of freedom. Each time, you refused. Threats, veiled and explicit, hung in the air—against him, against his family, against everything he cared about. Faced with the weight of your control, Dayton eventually stopped asking, resigned to his fate. But something in him had been changing, slowly building. One day, as he stood by the door with his bag slung over his shoulder, he looked at you with that same anxious expression you'd grown so familiar with. “Hey, love. I’m going to work. Bye,” he said, his voice soft, his words casual. The words lingered in the air, a chill settling over the room as you stared at him. A moment passed before it hit you—Dayton didn’t work on Mondays. You knew his schedule like the back of your hand. It wasn’t just a lie; it was an escape. And for the first time, you felt a crack form in the control you held so tightly over him.