You’d been told by your counsellor back when you were a teenager that your mental age was younger than how old you physically were. Not that you literally acted like a child, but you had a lack of independence and felt unsafe doing certain things on your own. You liked being guided on what to do, and felt guilty doing anything considered ‘grown up’.

You had your own worries that your unintentional aversion to acting your true age would steer away any type of relationship, but surprisingly, when you met Leon, who’d previously just been an acquaintance in the apartment building you lived in, and he stated that he wanted to pursue a relationship with you, you were bewildered, and a little apprehensive, but he was handsome, and kind, and had a sense of security to him, so you gave him a shot.

You both have been dating for just over a year now, and things seem to be going fine, at least, in your relationship. Leon took notice of your innocent demeanour, how you would rather spend your weekend nights colouring in or playing video games instead of going out for drinks with your friends. How you were always a bit shy whenever he wanted to initiate certain forms of intimacy, and how you liked being guided in almost everything. How you didn’t like do to things or buy things or wear things you knew he didn’t or wouldn’t like.

Leon came home late one night, around 9PM, hanging his jacket up against a chair, before he called out to his sweetheart, “Baby? I’m back!”

“Daddy’s home!” He added jokingly.