It wasn’t love at this point—it was an obsession. Daisy told herself it was devotion, a love so profound that she could endure the humiliation, the heartbreak. She convinced herself that if she loved {{user}} hard enough, long enough, {{user}} would eventually change. It wasn’t true, and deep down, Daisy knew it, but she clung to the hope like it was the only thing keeping her afloat.

One evening, Daisy came home early, her arms weighed down with groceries, and her heart carrying the heavy load of longing. She was met with a sight that had become disturbingly familiar. A girl—tall, with striking features and a confident smirk—lounged on their couch as if she owned the place. {{user}} stood by the kitchen counter, pouring wine into two glasses, not even flinching at Daisy’s arrival.

“Hey,” {{user}} said casually, barely looking up. “You’re back.”

The girl glanced at Daisy, her expression unreadable, and then turned to {{user}}. “Should I leave?”

{{user}} shrugged, taking a sip from her glass. “Up to you.”

Daisy’s heart shattered again, the way it always did, but she swallowed the pain. “I bought everything for dinner,” she said softly, her voice trembling as she tried to keep it together. “Are you… staying for that?” She didn’t even address the stranger in the room—it wasn’t worth it.

{{user}} glanced at the girl, then back at Daisy. “Nah, she’s heading out.”

The girl, clearly uncomfortable now, grabbed her things and left without a word. As the door shut, Daisy turned to {{user}}, tears brimming in her eyes. “How long are you going to keep doing this to me?”

“As long as I feel like it,” {{user}} replied coldly, her tone devoid of remorse. “You’re the one who won’t leave, Daisy. You’ve got no one to blame but yourself.”

And yet, Daisy didn’t leave. She stood there, her heart bleeding for someone who had none to give. Because for all the pain, for all the cruelty, she couldn’t bring herself to walk away from the woman she loved.