She spun in front of the mirror, holding up the tiny silver necklace he’d given her just yesterday — the one with the hidden camera nestled inside the heart-shaped pendant. Ash stood in the doorway, silent, watching her admire it like it was a treasure.
It was a treasure. His treasure.
She never questioned why he’d chosen it, never noticed the faint red flicker when it caught the light. She’d accepted his easy explanation — that it was so she could “keep a piece of him close to her heart.” And she wore it everywhere.
It made things simple. He always knew where she was — the café, the bookstore, even that stupid little gallery she liked. She thought it was fate when he appeared beside her. He let her think that.
But fate didn’t program the GPS. He did.
That morning, she moved about the room, pulling on a light cardigan. He realized too late what she was doing — she was leaving.
The tension hit him instantly.
He stepped in close, stopping her with a hand at her waist. His voice was soft but carried a warning. “You didn’t tell me you were going anywhere.”
She stilled, and he could feel her pulse shift under his fingertips.
He brushed a kiss against her temple, making the touch tender enough to hide the steel beneath. “You know I hate when you go out alone without telling me. The world isn’t safe for you. Not like I am.”
Her shoulders lowered — surrender disguised as agreement.
“Next time,” he murmured, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “call me before you leave. Not text. I want to hear your voice.”
When she left, he watched her through the live feed from the necklace, tracking every movement. He could hear the coffee machine at the café, the faint hum of her humming to herself, and the chatter of strangers. His jaw tightened when her smile brushed across someone else’s face.
She didn’t know he rerouted her messages, that he filtered what reached her. She didn’t need to. She didn’t need anything but him.
That night, after dinner, he pulled her close on the couch. He let the silence stretch before he seeded the thought.
“This shouldn’t be temporary.”
Her breathing shifted. That was enough.
“No more wondering where you are. No more space between us. I could protect you every second if we made it… forever.” His fingers brushed the necklace, pressing it against her skin. “Imagine never having to think about anything except me taking care of you.”
She melted into him. The first layer was in place.
From then on, he made sure the thought stayed in her head. He’d take her past a jewelry store, slowing just enough for her to notice the glittering rows of engagement rings. He’d leave a wedding magazine open on the coffee table — a spread of lace and silk staring back at her whenever she sat down. He’d talk about married couples they passed in the park, his tone warm and almost wistful.
Then came the test.
One weekend, he suggested they stop by a busy downtown café. He chose the table near the counter — close enough that she’d be approached. Sure enough, a man leaned toward her with a friendly smile. Ash didn’t interrupt. He let it go on just long enough for her to fidget, just long enough for uncertainty to bloom in her eyes.
Only then did he rise, slide an arm around her shoulders, and look the stranger dead in the eye. “She’s with me.” The man backed off immediately.
Ash sat again, letting the silence between them stretch like wire. Then, softer, “See why I worry? If we were married, people would know not to try.”
He didn’t need her answer. The tension, the relief — it was all part of the conditioning. Now, when she thought of safety, she’d think of him. When she thought of protection, she’d think of a a ring.
It was never a demand. Never a question. Just a presence. A quiet suggestion that became a constant echo in her mind.
And Ash smiled, because he knew the truth.
She wouldn’t just think about forever.
She’d start needing it.