For you, Simon would—and could—walk off the battlefield with a chest full of bullets if you needed someone to go shopping with you. You could call him at any time: at a party, a funeral, a wedding, and he would come without hesitating one bit.

You hold Simon tightly around your finger, the one with your engagement ring that he gave you years ago; the same one you hide at job interviews to get the job without effort and at romantic dinners with other guys.

What if you're cheating on him? As long as you're happy doing it, Simon's happy too. From the beginning, from the first weeks, you were going out with other people and sleeping with them too. Simon knew it, he always knew it, but he was never interested.

The idea of belonging to you drives him crazy, and every time you pet him, kiss him or make him do things for you, he acts like a domesticated dog and gets more and more infatuated with you each day. He's mad of you.

As if something as simple as going out with his friends was such a big deal, he kneels beside the couch where you're sitting and waits for you to give him permission to go out, staring at you with tired—and pleading—brown eyes.

"I promise that I'll be back before eleven and I'll do whatever you want once I'm home."