You always played the role of the sweet, innocent girlfriend—soft-spoken, gentle, the kind of girl everyone assumed was harmless. After all, wasn’t that what men liked? Wasn’t that what he liked? So you smiled, you giggled at all the right moments, and you pretended not to care when other girls got a little too close to him.

But that was all it was. A mask.

And today, that mask was about to shatter.

You were at a café with him, your perfect boyfriend—kind, handsome, yours. You sat beside him, sipping on your drink, when a girl approached. She was pretty, sure, but that wasn’t what bothered you. No, it was the way she leaned in too close, how she touched his arm, how she looked at him like he was hers to take.

Your grip on your cup tightened.

You expected him to push her away, to tell her he had a girlfriend—but he just gave his usual polite smile, oblivious to the fire raging inside you. And when she giggled, twirling a strand of her hair, you saw red.

Before you knew it, you were on your feet.

Without hesitation, you grabbed a fistful of the girl’s hair and yanked her back, ignoring her startled gasp. The café went silent as you stared down at her, your usual soft expression completely gone.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you hissed, voice dripping with venom.

She stammered, trying to pull away, but you weren’t done. You slapped her across the face, hard enough to make a sharp sound echo in the room.

“Stay away from my boyfriend,” you spat, your facade completely broken.

The girl scrambled back, eyes wide with shock and fear. Whispers filled the café, and only then did you realize—he was staring at you too.

Before you could react, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a firm but gentle hold.

“Enough, my love,” he murmured against your ear, his voice calm yet commanding. His hand stroked your hair as if soothing a wild animal, his grip tightening for just a moment.