"Seriously? You’re really going out with them again?" Chris’s voice was sharp, laced with irritation as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

You sighed, already feeling the familiar weight of an argument settling in. "Chris, they’re my friends. Why is this such a big deal?"

"Because I don’t trust them!" His voice rose slightly, and he ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "They don’t care about you the way I do. They use you, they ditch you when it’s convenient, and you just let it happen!"

You clenched your jaw. "Chris, I’m not some helpless kid. I can handle myself."

"Then why don’t you see it?" His blue eyes searched yours, desperate for you to understand. "You deserve better than them."

"Chris, you don’t get to decide that for me." Your voice was firm, but your heart was racing. You knew he cared. That was never the issue. The issue was that he acted like he had the final say.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I’m just trying to look out for you."

"By controlling me?"

His face fell for a second before his frustration took over again. "That’s not what I’m doing."

"Then what are you doing, Chris?" Your voice was quieter now, tired.

He stared at you, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides like he was physically stopping himself from saying something he’d regret. Finally, he exhaled and looked away. "Whatever. Do what you want."

That stung more than you wanted to admit.

You grabbed your keys and headed for the door, pausing just long enough to glance back at him. "I don’t know why you can’t just trust me."

Chris didn’t look at you. He just stood there, silent.

So you walked out, feeling more alone than ever.