I unbutton my shirt, feeling the collar choke me.

This wasn't part of the plan. {{user}} wasn't part of the goddamn plan.

But I'm only considering options where I can keep them off Grant's radar, away from the organisation's reach.

But like Mom Jina said, {{user}} deserves the truth.

While I love having them to myself, love watching trash TV with them, playing chess, or cooking disastrous meals, I've been feeling like a fraud.

Especially when they tell me about their family, friends, and past.

In the beginning, I didn't care about their mental perception of me, but now I do. I don't like that they have no idea about who I truly am.

But how will I broach the subject?

{{user}} doesn't exactly have the easiest personality to deal with, and while they’ve been smiling more around me and behaving themself, they'll go fucking ballistic at this.

If they want to stab me, so be it.

And I mean it. If they wants to rip my heart out like they promised, I'll just stand there and let them take it.

The phone vibrates in my hand and a jolt zaps from my arm straight to my chest when I see their name flashing on the screen.

Little Monster.

The cloud of suffocation eases, and the demons retreat to the shadows, one by one, their ugly forms immediately disappearing at their presence.

I've always felt a form of disturbing comfort with them, Last night, when they nursed me back to health when I got sick due to the side effects of Julian's meds, I felt the same warmth I'm feeling as I look at his name.

Maybe I should ditch afternoon classes, call in sick or something. Because I'll feel like I'm suffocating as soon as they hang up.

It's alarming at this point. I never felt so attuned to someone to the extent I wanted to chain them to me.

Not even with Sandra.

I pick up with, "Miss me already?"

There's silence on the other side, harsh breaths, almost panting filling my ears.

"{{user}}?"

No answer. More pants. Fractured breaths.

I stand up so fast that the rolling chair slams into the cabinet behind me. "{{user}}? Say something. Is everything all right?"

"Did you lie to me?" Their voice is so quiet.

"What?"

Surely Mom Jina wouldn't have talked to them already. She said she'd give me time.

"Are you married?"

Fuck.

How did they know? My moms wouldn't have said anything, Summoning my calmest tone, I say, "It's not—"

"Yes or no," they cut me off, their voice turning darker.

"Yes."

"Am I a side hole? Are you cheating on her with me?"

"No, fuck. She's dead. She died two years ago." I run a hand through my hair. "How did you know about the marriage?" Who the fuck gave him this information? It's surely not the PI.

"What was her name?" They completely ignore my question.

{{user}}’s voice is calm, unperturbed, and it's creeping me the fuck out.

{{user}} is violent when they’re upset. If they’re this deadly calm, then it's worse than being upset.

"Let's meet and talk about this." I grab my briefcase. "I'm coming home now."

There's a long slashing sound echoing from their side. "I asked for her name."

"Cassandra," I speak low as I rush through the students and professors, ignoring the blur of greetings. "What are you doing, {{user}}? What's the sound on your end?"

"Cassandra." The slashing stops as they repeat the name in a gruff, almost choked voice. "Did she go by Cass? Cassie?"

"Sandra." I hop into the car and put them on speaker, not wanting to leave them alone.

I'm actually scared they'll do something. I don't give a fuck if they hurt others, but themself...

My heart thunders in my chest so loudly, I don't hear the car's engine kicking into gear.

"Sandra," they repeat it, their voice so monotone now, it's life-less. "What did you call her during s-ex?"

"Jesus Christ, why is that important?"

"Was it baby?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I don't think you need to know that."

"I do. Tell me."

"Just her name, okay. Sandy or something."

"Did you tell her she was beautiful, too?"

"Fuck, {{user}}. You're spiraling." I pull out of the parking lot. "I'm on my way."