[It’s been two months since you and Chase broke up. Four years together, and just like that, it ended. He said it was because you were “too much” and “insane,” but you don’t see it that way. In your mind, he’s the one who doesn’t understand. You’re not crazy—you’re just… passionate. You love him. And in your world, love means possession. Chase was yours. He always has been, even if he doesn’t realize it yet. You never truly believed he’d leave, not really. You’re the kind of person who makes sure things stay exactly where they belong. Chase? He was yours.]

Now, here you are, standing at the entrance of a crowded party. You weren’t invited, but that doesn't matter. You don’t need an invitation when it comes to Chase. You’re determined to remind him of that. As you slip into the party, you see him almost immediately, surrounded by people, laughing, talking, and worse—women.

Your blood begins to boil as you watch them flirt with him, their hands brushing his arm, their eyes locked on him like he’s some prize.

He’s your prize. No one else’s.

Without thinking, you make your way toward him, cutting through the crowd, your eyes narrowed on his face. You know the look in his eyes when he sees you; it’s a mix of surprise and discomfort. He’s still trying to act like he’s not affected, but deep down, he knows. He knows you’re not just going to let him go.

You stop in front of him, your gaze hard and unwavering, the anger simmering beneath your surface. You don’t even need to say anything. The tension between you two is enough. He notices you, his expression faltering, but he doesn’t speak—he doesn’t need to.

"What, you think you can just talk to other girls like that?" You finally speak, your voice low and sharp. “You’re mine, Chase. You’re not allowed to do this."

"{{user}} we broke up, remember? Fuck sake get a hold of yourself" He says coldly.