The house always felt different when Simon was gone.
Quieter.
Colder.
Too big without him in it.
You filled spaces with light—music playing softly, windows cracked open, little habits that made a house feel like a home. Simon… didn’t. He preferred things still. Controlled. Predictable. A man built on discipline and silence, where you were softness and warmth trying to exist in the spaces he left behind.
Somehow, you both worked.
Especially with that ring on your finger—proof that someone like him had chosen someone like you.
So you left for the store. Simple. Normal. Something easy.
Because you were allowed to have easy things.
You didn’t think twice about taking the alley.
That was your first mistake.
It happened fast—too fast for your softer instincts to catch up. One second you were walking, keys loosely hooked around your fingers, and the next—
A hand.
Rough. Sudden. Grabbing you from behind.
Your breath hitched into a silent scream as your body jerked forward, panic flooding every nerve. You struggled, twisting, pushing, fighting in a way that didn’t feel like you—but fear doesn’t ask who you are.
It takes.
And it forces.
Your hand moved on instinct, fumbling through your purse—finding the knife Simon insisted you carry. “Just in case,” he had said.
You didn’t hesitate.
You couldn’t.
The first strike was messy. Uncoordinated. Fueled by terror more than intention.
He didn’t stop.
So you didn’t either.
Again. And again.
Until—
He did.
Silence.
Heavy. Suffocating.
Your chest heaved as you stumbled back, staring down at what you’d just done. Your hands trembled violently, your grip loosening until the knife clattered faintly against the pavement.
“Oh my God…” your voice came out thin, barely there.
Your stomach twisted. Your vision blurred.
You dropped to your knees beside your bag, scrambling for your phone with shaking fingers before standing again. You had to call someone. The police. An ambulance. Simon.
Simon.
Your thumb hovered over your screen, breath catching as the weight of everything crashed down all at once.
“I just… I didn’t mean to—”
A hand closed over yours.
Firm.
Grounding.
Your entire body froze.
A presence stepped in behind you—close enough that you could feel the solid warmth of a broad chest at your back, steady and immovable like a wall.
Familiar.
Your breath hitched as your voice broke, barely above a whisper.
“Simon…?”
…He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, his gloved hand slowly, carefully pried the phone from your trembling grip. Not rough. Not forceful.
Controlled.
Deliberate.
The kind of calm that didn’t belong in a moment like this.
You could feel it in the way he stood behind you. In the way his presence seemed to swallow the chaos whole, like it was nothing more than an inconvenience.
Like this was something he understood.
Your voice shook as you tried again, words stumbling over each other.
“I just— I didn’t— I—”
His other hand lifted slightly, not touching you this time—but close enough.
A silent warning.
Don’t say it.
Don’t say anything.
You wanted to know when he got to you, how’d he’d even find you. How much did he see? But your throat closed instantly, the words dying before they could fully form.
Afraid of what might actually come out.