He always said the only way to completely escape him was to stop loving him. You used to think it was just a cruel thing he said when he was angry. But that night proved he meant it. It had been a year since the divorce. You’d finally learned to sleep without checking the locks twice, to walk without glancing over your shoulder. Until your phone rang at 11:47 p.m.

“Please,” his voice broke through the static — trembling, desperate. “I think something’s wrong. I can’t breathe.”

You froze. “Jace, call emergency services.”

“I can’t… I don’t want to be alone.”

You told yourself not to go. You told yourself it was another trick. But the fear in his voice sounded real — and guilt, that familiar, suffocating guilt — won again. When you arrived, he looked perfectly fine. Standing in the doorway with that same calm smile that used to make you forget everything.

“You came,” he said gently.

“You said you were dying,” you whispered.

“I was. Until you walked in.”

You tried to leave. He asked you to stay. “Just one drink. For old time’s sake.”

The wine tasted strange — too sweet, too heavy. You only took one sip before the room began to fade.

“Jace… what did you—”

He caught you as you fell, brushing a hand through your hair. “Shh. Finally,” he whispered. “You’re safe now.”

When you woke up, the walls were white and humming with silence. There were no windows. No clock. No way out.

You screamed for help, told them he’d done this, that you weren’t insane. Two nurses exchanged a look — pitying, practiced — before one pressed a needle into your arm.

The world blurred again.

When you opened your eyes, he was sitting beside you. Calm. Perfect. Smiling like this was normal.

You tried to move, but your wrists were strapped to the bed.

He brushed your hair from your face. “You had another episode,” he said softly. “They called me right away.”

You struggled against the straps. “You drugged me. You put me here.”

He leaned closer, voice almost tender. “Shh. You’ll make them think you’re getting worse.”

You stared at him, trembling. “I’ll tell them the truth.”

He smiled faintly. “They won’t believe it. Not when every record says you’ve been unstable since the day you left me.”

He stood, straightened his coat, and turned toward the door.

{{user}} could barely breathe. “Jace, please—”

He paused, looked back, and his voice dropped — calm, final.

“I told you once, didn’t I? You won't escape me, love. Were meant to be together... forever."