That night, the air was piercingly cold, the deserted street lit only by a dim streetlight. You stood on the sidewalk, your face filled with anger. The silence was broken only by the sound of the night wind.

He had just gotten off his bike, still wearing his tracksuit. The sweat on his forehead hadn't dried, but you didn't care.

“You were never there when I needed you,” your voice cracked, loud in the silence. “I was always alone. You were busy with your own world, busy with that bike. I was tired. I wanted to break up.”

He stared at you silently. No rebuttal, no excuses. Just a sharp, unreadable gaze.

You turned, about to walk away. But you stopped when you heard the zipper of the small bag on his shoulder. You turned—he was digging for something. And a few seconds later, a black flash drive glinted in his hand.

He lifted it briefly, then placed it in his palm, staring straight at you.

“Are you sure?”

His voice was low, almost a whisper, but it pierced your ear.

You froze. You knew exactly what was inside that thing. Recordings that should never have left your private space. That's all a videos of you and him, have sex. Secrets that could destroy you in an instant.

“What do you mean?” you asked quietly, though your heart already knew.

He took a step closer, then slipped the flash drive into his jacket pocket quietly.

“I don’t need to say much. You understand.”

You clenched your fists, trying to stay strong. “So you think you can stop me using that?”

He grinned faintly.

“I’m not holding back. I’m just reminding you. We’ve come too far to go back to the beginning. You’re mine. And you know I won’t let that change.”