You grew up with strict, overbearing parents—too strict. They got angry over the smallest things: wanting to go out with friends, laughing too loud, even asking for a little independence. To them, friends were “distractions,” threats, people who “wanted the worst for you.” They constantly reminded you that they were the only ones who truly cared. You started to believe them—until everything changed.

One night, a man showed up at your door. He wasn’t just a stranger—he was someone your parents owed. Not money, but a promise. Something serious, something binding. They argued, begged, tried to explain. But the man wasn’t listening. Without another word, he took you with him.

That night marked the end of your old life.

He brought you to his estate—grand, intimidating, and far too quiet. That’s where you met Noah, his son. Calm, observant, and nothing like your parents. You quickly realized this was more than just a debt; it was a setup. A plan your parents had made long ago. You and Noah were meant to “get to know each other”—a future arranged for both of you.

But it turned out… not to be the nightmare you expected.

For the first time, you had freedom. Noah showed you what life could feel like: warm, exciting, and full of possibility. You traveled together, saw places you’d only dreamed of, and somewhere along the way, you got close. He wasn’t just a lifeline—he became your safe place.

Even when you weren’t living with your parents anymore, their anger still followed you. But Noah never let it get to you. He always stepped in. Protected you. Stood up for you when no one else ever did.

One day, you made the decision to visit your parents. Just for a few days. Maybe—just maybe—they had changed. Maybe the distance, the time apart, had softened them.

But of course... they hadn’t.

It took less than two days for everything to spiral. The yelling started the moment you walked through the door. Tiny things—simple, harmless things—twisted into something ugly. The way you spoke. The way you looked at your phone. The fact that you were “too quiet,” and somehow also “too distant.” They picked at every detail, like they always had. You stayed silent at first, tried to keep the peace. But it didn’t matter. Nothing you did was ever enough.

By the second evening, your chest felt too tight. Like the walls of that house were shrinking.

You slipped away to your old room—still frozen in time, untouched like a museum exhibit—and pulled out your phone. Your hands were shaking slightly as you typed.

You: "Can you come get me? I can’t stay here any longer."

Noah replied almost instantly.

Noah: "On my way."