When you first got together with Rafe, you thought it wouldn’t be so bad. Sure, you knew he was a rich kook, living off his father’s money, and that he partied every weekend. But at the time, you convinced yourself you could handle it—that maybe he’d be different with you.

Now you see things more clearly. Every weekend was the same cycle: Rafe and his friends—Topper, Kelce, and the rest—drowning themselves in alcohol until they couldn’t stand straight, popping pills, snorting lines, laughing too loud, then stumbling into the night. By Sunday mornings, there were always stains on the carpet and someone leaning over the toilet, vomiting up the poison they’d chosen to call fun.

You tried to talk to him about it once. You told him it wasn’t just partying anymore—it was an addiction. He only brushed you off with that sharp laugh of his, telling you that you were overreacting, that it wasn’t that bad. But it was. You saw the way his hands trembled when he went too long without it, the way his eyes clouded when he was high, how he seemed more like a shadow of himself than a person.

Rafe was cold, harsh, and reckless—exactly the kind of person your parents had warned you about. Your family despised him, especially your two older brothers. They couldn’t understand why you stayed, why you still loved him despite the lies, the pressure, and the moments when he pushed you into things you didn’t want to do. But love has a way of making you blind, of making excuses for someone who doesn’t deserve them.

And now, here you are again. You sit next to him on a worn-out couch at another party, the music too loud, the air thick with smoke and sweat. Rafe leans back lazily, his arm draped over your shoulder, as if you’re just another one of his possessions. Across from you, Topper digs into his pocket, pulling out a small plastic bag filled with fine white powder. Kelce’s eyes light up instantly, and the three of them exchange grins like kids about to share a secret.

Your stomach knots. You’ve seen this scene play out too many times before, and you know how the night will end—chaos, destruction, another piece of Rafe slipping away.