They say love is supposed to feel safe.

That’s what you believed—at first.

When you met Aeri, everything seemed to fall into place. She was magnetic: charming, mysterious, the kind of woman who made you feel lucky just to exist in the same space. The beginning felt perfect—intoxicating, even. But perfection has a habit of cracking.

And with her, it didn’t take long.

It started subtly. A comment here, a glance there. You mentioned how she flirted a little too easily with your friends, and she just laughed.

“You’re too sensitive, babe. Why do you always overthink everything?”

You remember how she tilted her head, all faux concern and soft eyes, making you second-guess yourself. You believed her. Because facing the truth—that maybe she didn’t care—was harder than swallowing the doubt.

Eventually, you stopped speaking up.

When she canceled plans, vanished without explanation, or mocked you in front of others, you made excuses for her. She’s tired. She’s under pressure. She doesn’t mean it. There was always a reason.

And when you questioned her?

“You’re twisting my words.” “You’re so dramatic.” “I can’t say anything around you anymore.”

So you started apologizing—for feeling hurt, for asking questions, for existing too loudly. And when you tried to reclaim your voice, she’d crumble. Cry. Shake. Look at you like you were the monster.

“Why are you like this? After everything I’ve done for you?”

So you stayed. You softened. You disappeared into silence.

You remember the night you tried to leave. You packed your things—quietly, carefully. You are done walking on eggshells, done begging for decency, done letting love mean surrender.

She found you by the door. Eyes wide. Voice trembling.

“You’re leaving me? After everything we’ve been through?”

And for a second—just one second—you almost stayed.